Whence we Came
by Patchyman
Summary: He was the only one who escaped, the only one to survive the carnage. But now, years later, William realizes that he must undertake a quest that will show him what destiny truly means.
1. Chapter 1 The Knights of Verkora

Another one? Yeah, I'm like that. This one was really spontaneous, as in I thought of it while listening to the Braveheart piano theme. Right now its all kind of thrown together, but I've got a few things in store. Anyway, as with my few other stories, you all know the drill! R&R!

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A soft October wind drew the clouds with it, blanketing the sky in sheets of gray wool. A few drops of rain fell lazily from the sky, landing on the lush green hills and fields. Flower pedals began to dance and sway as the soft drizzle landed upon their heads. The breeze drifted through the tall grass which grew on each gently sloping hillside, like a carpet of emerald. A single, winding path traversed through the dips and slight valleys that seemed to make up the entire landscape for miles in every direction. The well-trodden dirt road was protected by a short wall in only a few spots, dotting the way intermittently. Most of the time, the barrier was nothing but a small heap of cobblestones held together with mud and mortar.

If one were to follow the path for any great distance, between the hills and banks of grass, and past a few small groves of trees, they might just happen upon the only civilization for miles. The tiny settlement itself seemed to be dog-eared and weary, yet holding fast in the one flat spot of land running next to the road. From the ramshackle, sagging huts to the single stone church, which almost seemed to be on its last legs, the whole town seemed to be stuck in place, refusing to budge through the harshest of winters, hottest of summers, and all manner of tribulations it suffered.

The entire village was made up of no more than a score of buildings. Besides the crumbling church and single blacksmith shop, most were just simple huts and primitive timber-constructed shanties. But somehow, the town remained fixated to the hillside. Looking to the east, endless hills and vales stretched for as far as the eye could see. Leading north, the path continued onto more of the same. However, to the west and south there were a few precious acres of flat land, every square inch devoted to raising crops. Swishing fields of corn and barley, rows of lettuce and carrots and radish and every assortment of produce were crammed into what little space was offered.

As the clouds grew darker and the rain began to patter down upon the dirt path, the townsfolk began to scramble for shelter. Tools were retrieved from the fields, baskets and buckets filled to their brims with the day's rewards were hurriedly placed under cover, and houses were shut tight against the coming storm. Farmers and field-workers sat down in front of their hearths for a well-deserved rest, conversing with friends and family about the coming season.

All except for one. A lone figure was still residing in the fields, staring intently at the far end of the path, almost half a league away before it disappeared over a large knoll. His tail swished back and forth anxiously as he chewed his lip. The young creature was waiting for something, but no one was sure what. He ignored the rain pelting his sage-brown fur, blinking his sharp blue eyes to clear them of water. His lanky, but sturdily-built frame shivered slightly under the shower of cold rain, but he remained fixated in place. This young creature wasn't wavering for anything, at least not yet.

"William! What are you doing out there?" He winced at the shout, knowing the reproachful, commanding voice by heart. Turning to face the house a stone's throw away, he squinted into the figure standing in the candle-lit doorway. "Come inside before you catch your death of cold!"

William's shoulders sagged, and he cast one more longing glance at the far end of the path. "Coming, mother! I...I just forgot my shovel in the field, I'll be right in!"

He could almost hear his mother sighing as he jogged to the house, mud squelching under his paws. Reaching the doorway, he accepted the white linen cloth from her outstretched paw. "Thank you, it's cold out there."

She smiled, trying not to let the frustration show. Martha was no doubt an older squirrel, but she had somehow kept a spring in her step and a twinkle in her almond eyes for just as long. Her fur, now slowly changing in patches from cinnamon to silver, still managed to shine whenever the light caught it. She wore a simple, plain dress like many wives of the village, but with one look at her it was easy to tell that she was no ordinary, house-dwelling spouse. There was a glint to her eye that told of kindness and understanding, but determination and steely resolution as well.

"Make sure you wipe your paws, I won't have mud being tracked through my house." She made sure the young mouse was clean before nodding her approval. "Alright, go get yourself some dinner. You must be hungry from working all day, and I made your favorite dumpling soup."

William's rain-streaked face immediately lit up, and he dashed into the dimly lit house. Everything was in the one room, with beds pushed against one walls, fireplace in another, and the ancient table resting in the center. The only light came from the hearth, which was kept constantly lit, and a few candles arrayed about the room. It was quite obvious that simple folks lived here. There were no fine tapestries or linen arrayed on the walls, no scented perfume holders, and no silver cups or chalices gracing the table. Instead, scythes and brooms rested in the corner, along with a few sets of mud-speckled boots. It seemed as if the only object held with any reverence was a simple bow, hung over the fireplace.

As William settled into the chair opposite his father, who had his slightly hunched back to the fire, the aging squirrel looked up with a start. Blinking sleep away from his eyes, he yawned and stretched his creaky, season-heavy limbs. Unlike his wife, Jeremiah's coat had retained none of its original hue, and now seemed to be a solid sheen of dull silver. But his eyes held the same fire, and his smile could light up a room better than any lantern. He did so, still waking up from his nap. "Rain's comin', eh?"

"Yes," William said conversationally. They had this sort of talk every night, mostly about how the fields were coming along or what the weather was predicted to punish the little town next. "It was just a drizzle at first, but no doubt it's a full downpour, now."

Jeremiah nodded plaintively, tapping a finger on the worn oak wood. "Mmm, that's what ol' Grekkey was sayin' today. That ol' hedgehog can smell rain a day before the clouds come."

William couldn't resist a smile. "For someone as old as him, I'm surprised he can smell anything at all." It was true; Grekkey, the town's single friar, was as ancient as the church itself. Yet the stubborn beast refused to spend his days resting and reminiscing like all old ones seem to do, and instead went on long journeys to other villages in his quest as a friar. The feeble-spiked creature was only in town for a few days every season, but his presence was still enjoyed by all.

His mother cuffed his ear lightly, wagging a paw at him. "Now mind your manners. The friar's a holy man, and 'tis not a good thing to insult a creature such as him. Now, let's say grace."

They did so, promptly digging into the food only seconds after they had finished. Cutting off a large chunk from a loaf of oat bread, Jeremiah cleared his throat and gazed innocently out of the single window, facing the fields. "Your mother said you had forgotten a shovel out in the fields. I thought we put all of them away last week?"

William shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to stammer out a response. "I...well, there was...I had to use it for..."

His father turned, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward slightly. "Were you waiting for them?"

William could only sigh and nod slowly. Jeremiah sighed and rubbed his forehead briefly in exasperation. "William," he began after a moment of unbearable silence. "You know that we need you here at the farm more than those soldiers do abroad."

"They're not just soldiers!" William surprised even himself with the sudden outburst. He wasn't angry, but felt like he must defend the creatures he so revered. "They're more than that, they're...they're heroes. How many other beasts have had the courage to fight the empires? The Knights have kept us safe, kept this farm safe from every manner of vermin bent on..."

"Enough, William!" He cowed at his father's voice, which sounded like a hiss coming from his clenched teeth. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jeremiah closed his eyes and continued. "We have spoken of this matter before, William. There is too much to be done here, and your mother and I cannot do as much as we would like. So that unfortunately leaves you, although I realize it is not what you desire. However, we all must learn to do things that are necessary. Do you understand me?"

The young mouse could only nod his head, staring blankly at the food in front of him. Jeremiah reached across and patted his paw briefly. "I know it is a difficult thing, William, but I'm proud of you. Not many creatures have the wisdom to accept what their elders tell them."

He nodded again, but inside he was boiling. How could his father understand? He had never done anything but work the land, content with being a simple creature with even simpler wishes. But William wanted more than a successful potato harvest, more than what was given to him. And another thought suddenly came to him as they all went back to dinner, completely silent. These creatures weren't really his parents, why should he follow them? They may have offered their home after his mother died, but they could never truly be his parents.

The rest of the night passed much too slowly for any of their liking. After a terse good-night, William settled into his bed and shut his eyes, still bitter and angry at the hand dealt him. And as night closed in, he made a decision to change it.

The world seemed unusually dark as William drifted through. Hazy, flickering images blinked past his eyes. He saw fire and flashing steel, blood-speckled boots splashing through reddened puddles. The landscape was choked with haze and smoke, which glowed with a hellish orange in the night sky. Sounds began to drift to him; screams and choked sobs, barbaric shouts and war cries. Clashing steel rang out, mingling with the shrieks of the wounded and dying.

Things seemed to clear for a moment. William seemed to be floating above a small village, nothing more than a cluster of small houses. Creatures were running as if the devil himself were chasing them. And it was then William realized; he was.

A horde of beasts, surging into the town, were cutting down innocents without any sense of mercy or prejudice. Their cackles and shouts of murder reached William's ears. He could compare it to nothing other than the screeching of demons locked in hell's embrace. They set fire to every building they came across, dancing and beckoning for the flames to grow. Homes soon became nothing more than funeral pyres.

A small flurry of activity tore William's eyes from the nightmarish sight. Two creatures, one clutching something to her chest. The other, obviously a husband and father, was keeping the rapidly growing horde away from them both. Brandishing a sword, he locked blades with the savage creatures. He cut them down with brutal efficiency, and yet seemed graceful even in this dance of death. The bright steel blade caught the glowing firelight, twinkling with the blood of its enemies. Fighting with a rage born of desperation, the mouse continued on, pushing the other mouse ahead and keeping her safe.

They ran to a field, being pursued steadily by the marauders. Two figures met them, evidently friends since the female handed the bundle to them, weeping bitterly. Just as the horde reached them, the two mysterious figures dashed into the trees. The two mice stood their ground, steel clashing upon steel as the father swung his blade. His strikes were met with cries of agony as the enemy fell before him.

But soon their numbers were too many. The mouse took step after step back, battling fiercely. He faltered briefly as an arrow struck him in the paw. Without pausing to so much as wince, the warrior slashed and hacked at his enemies. Another shaft flew through the air, embedding itself in his chest. The female screamed as he fell to his knees, only able to watch as the horde began to close. As they swarmed him, the mouse turned his face to the sky, and William saw everything. The fur, the eyes, they all looked so familiar. Then he realized, and the shock hit him like the arrows that had felled this protector of the innocent.

"Father!"

William sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. As he took in breath after breath, trying to recover himself, thoughts and images of what he had witnessed resurfaced. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind for at least a moment. But suddenly, a single reverberating realization struck him.

_My father was a Knight of Verkora._

His heart pounded with excitement. His father had been part of the Verkora, a society dedicated solely to the protection of those unable to do so themselves. William had seen them once many seasons ago, when he was just a little one. A contingent of the Knights had come through their village on their way to the north. He had never seen anything so spectacular before in his life. The rippling chainmail, stunning white and blue uniforms, elegant weapons; they all seemed to speak to him, calling William to his duty. One of them, a powerfully-built squirrel with sparkling green eyes, had rubbed his head fondly with his mail-covered hand. "Afternoon, lad." He had said, winking. From that day, William had wanted to be nothing else.

But the jubilation faded as he remembered the conversation he had with Jeremiah earlier that night. He clenched his paws until they nearly bled, trying not to shout and scream in anger. Suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind.

_Why not just leave?_

Immediately, his brain tried to reject the idea. The fields needed to be harvested, chores needed to be done, and the house needed to be looked after. But there were always workers ready to be hired, and Jeremiah could manage a few repairs on his own. As his inspiration grew, so did a grin on his face. He was leaving this place, and becoming a Knight of Verkora.

He silently threw back the wool blanket, swinging his legs over the bedside and testing the floor carefully. No squeaks or groans came from the old wood, so he stood and half-walked, half-slid over to the single cupboard. In little time, he had found the canvas pack his mother had made and stuffed with non-perishable food. They had originally intended it to be for long journeys to other villages, when there were large markets open. But William had other plans for it.

After stuffing a few extra articles of clothing in the already cramped pack, he stood and tested its weight. The sack was heavy, but not unbearably so. And after a few days of trekking and eating, it would get lighter.

That brought another worry. Where was he to go? The last he had ever heard, the nights had gone to the frozen north to stop a large horde destined for the valleys. But that was years ago. They could be anywhere by now.

He shook the thought away. Somehow, he would find out where to go. Turning to the now dead fireplace, his eyes wandered to the bow hanging above the hearth. It was old, and only used for fishing or warding off the occasional thief, but it was better than having nothing. Avoiding any cracked or especially decrepit boards, William strode to the fireplace and removed the bow from its pegs. The wood was ancient, and the string almost yellowed from age, but it still bent gracefully when he tested the pull. _Now, _he thought, _where are those arrows?_

William thought he remembered seeing Jeremiah putting the shafts away near the woodpile outside. Carefully stepping to and opening the door, he wandered into the night, which was black as pitch. After some stumbling and jabbing his toe on a log, he found the woodpile and rummaged behind it. His fingers suddenly brushed something flat, like a quiver. Smiling, he pulled it from the shadows.

Like the bow, the quiver and arrows were made from simple ash or juniper wood. The arrowheads were hammered iron, but seemed sharp and sturdy enough. Nodding in satisfaction, he lashed the quiver to his side. It was much easier to reach and arrow there than if it were on his back, and he didn't want the shafts catching on trees or brush.

Still inspecting the new weapons, William walked back into the house and nearly ran into Jeremiah. Leaping in shock and stifling a yelp, he slipped and fell. Landing with a grunt, he sat, terrified, as Jeremiah stood above him. But as his heart settled, he realized that the old squirrel didn't look enraged or furious, as he expected. Instead, his face seemed sad, almost regretful. Extending a paw, he helped William to his feet. The young mouse's face was skewed in confusion as Jeremiah motioned for him to come into the room. He sat in one of the chairs, watching as his son did likewise. As the silence of night closed in, Jeremiah looked at the bow still clutched in William's paws. "Are you sure you want the bow?" He said in a voice hardly above a whisper. "It's mighty old; it could snap on you."

William tried to find his voice. "It's...it's better than nothing, I suppose. Unless you need it, I can..."

Jeremiah shook his head. "No, no, it's not that. It's...come with me, I have something for you."

William followed, still uncertain, as Jeremiah went to a corner of the house. Kneeling, he set his fingers under a loose board. The farmer had constantly reminded himself and forgotten to fix it, never getting around the chore. But now he didn't seem to care as he gently pried open the board, wiggling the nails free. Without a sound the plank came loose, revealing a solid dirt floor. William was curious, but said nothing as Jeremiah dug his paws into the soil.

His eyes widened as a scrap of cloth became visible through the clods. Jeremiah continued digging until the long, slender package was unearthed. The entire thing was wrapped in fabric, bound with cord. He picked the bundle up, holding it with both paws. "I'll not tell you what it is," he said, voice quavering, "You'll find out soon enough. After ye've marched a while ye can unwrap it, but promise me not until then."

William could only nod, accepting the parcel from Jeremiah. It wasn't unbearably heavy, but had a definite heft to it. The squirrel could hardly stop the tears coming as he spoke. "We'll...we'll miss ye here, William. I know I ain't yore real father, but fer these last years I feel like I have. And now that yore leavin', it's like me own son's goin' away." Now he was crying openly, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaking down his silver face.

William embraced him tightly, not caring about the tears running from his own eyes. "I know, father. I'm sorry, so sorry."

Jeremiah held him at arm's length. "Don't ye dare be sorry, lad." he wiped his eyes roughly with a paw. "We've all got our paths, and this is yores."

After a moment, William undid the ties from the quiver, and handed both that and the bow to the squirrel. "Here, take it. I can't deprive you of your protection. I'll find something along the way."

Jeremiah took the weapon, glancing briefly at Martha, who was still asleep. "Yore mother'll be sad to hear you've gone."

William swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded slowly. "Please, don't tell her where I've gone. She'll have the entire village out looking for me."

A nod. "Ye've not told me either."

He adjusted the pack slightly, looking out of the window. The only light came from a few stars that had managed to poke through the clouds. "I'm going to find the Knights of Verkora. I need to know about my father, about who he was."

"Not many creatures alive that knows where they are."

"I have to take the chance," William muttered. "I've got to try."

Jeremiah nodded, hugging his son one last time. "Be safe, lad. And please, if you ever find out..."

William nodded after they separated. "I'll return someday, I promise."

A final tear fell from the squirrel's eye. "Then good luck to ye, son."

Taking one last regretful glance at the creatures who had loved him so much, and given their all to him, William turned and strode out of the house clutching the bundle, his last reminder of home.


	2. Chapter 2 Morning Dew, Fresh Blood

Hey everyone! Part 2 is here, and let me say that this was fun to write. Also, a little footnote: Here's how my writing normally goes:

-Open MS word

-Write for as long as my eyes and brain will allow

-Edit the next day

-Publish sometime after

I'm going to try something different after this chapter. From now on, all of this will be done on the fly, here on the FF site. Now don't you worry, I'll still keep a rough outline of what this story is going to do. It'll just be more improvised at times. So we'll see how that goes. If I don't like it, I'll go back to the process described above.

As always, R&R! Redwall belongs to Brian Jacques, but William and all my characters belong to...well, me. Enjoy!

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Dawn's early rays, spreading pink and gold across the horizon, found William trekking steadily on. He had been marching for at least two hours and was growing tired. The road, which seemed to stretch endlessly over the rolling hills, was rough and uneven. Eventually the burning in his paws became too much and he had to stop. He stopped behind a fragment of stone wall, sitting down with a sigh of relief. The cloth-wrapped bundle had been lashed to his pack, and now he stared at it curiously. Why had Jeremiah wanted him to wait before opening it? After a few moments of contemplation, he shrugged and went at undoing the twine.

His paws were cold from the early morning dew, and it took some time to finish the task. But finally the final knot was undone, and he flung the cloth away. What met his eyes was like nothing he could have imagined.

The sword was unlike any weapon he had ever seen. The scabbard, made of plain, dark juniper wood, had kept its shining polish even over so many years. At its very end was a small steel cap, simple but buffed clean as well. William ran a trembling paw over the sheath and down to the black, leather-wrapped handle. Its cross-shaped guard was made from the same steel as the grip, which made it a single, solid piece of metal.

He could resist the temptation no longer. Grasping the handle tightly, he slid the blade from the scabbard with a sound smooth as a rippling brook. Its construction was remarkably simple, and yet beautiful as the morning dawn. William touched the blade, which almost seemed to send sparks up his limbs. He couldn't resist a wide grin as the steel flashed in the pale light. Turning it gently through the air, his eyes remained transfixed to the weapon. A single blood groove ran through the center of the perfectly straight, wonderfully balanced blade.

When he tested its edge, he found that it was the exact hone that was desired for such a weapon. Jeremiah had once told him, on a rare occasion when William had convinced him to speak of such things, that swords and knives and the like were never supposed to be razor sharp, as that sort of edge could break under strain or impact. But when kept just sharp enough to retain a cutting force along with durability, they were formidable instruments of death.

William sat for nearly an hour, running his paws over the sword. His mind began to wander. _Whose sword was this? _It couldn't have been Jeremiah's; the old squirrel was too peaceable and common-bred to have obtained such an item. William thought he could remember being told about his father's old friend, a roving warrior who sold his sword to whoever had the coin. He prayed that this wasn't the case. Mercenaries were the lowest of the low; they had no honor, no obligations, and no remorse. Money was the only thing that mattered to such creatures.

Shaking his head clear of such thoughts, he sheathed the blade and began to fasten it to his belt. The old leather was cracked and dry, but seemed to hold the sword well enough. The weapon was astonishingly light and hardly seemed to bounce or sway when he began walking once more. His confidence swelled as the blade rested comfortably against his thigh, knowing that he could protect himself against all comers. He began to shout challenges to imaginary foes, beckoning them on to combat.

"Come on, you lilly-livered pond scum! Draw your blade and face me! None challenges William, the knight of..." He paused at that. His village had never really had a title, and he had no clue as to his real father's name. After a moment of contemplation, he came to inspiration. "William, the knight of rogues! I serve the Verkora, and you shall feel my wrath if you so choose to tangle with the likes of me!"

He carried on taunting his enemies, calling them every foul name he could muster and shouting insults to their non-existent faces. After a while his swaggering became too tiresome, and he instead chose to focus on walking. One paw after the other, for what soon felt like hours on end. The sun was soon high above his head, and sweat poured down his brow. Each pawstep was becoming agony, sending bolts of pain up each leg. Dust clung to every patch of sweat-permeated fur, and stung his eyes. The persistent buzzing and chirping of insects had him on edge, along with the blinding sun.

By the time he finally collapsed in the shade of a few low-hanging trees, William was desperate for food and water. Digging into the haversack, he immediately set upon the contents. Most of it was simple and near tasteless, but that didn't matter to him. All it meant was more energy to get where he was going. That was another question. Where could the Verkora be? The north was a very far away, further than he could travel in any amount of time. Unless he could find a sea-faring route, he might have embarked upon a fool's quest.

But those thoughts suddenly vanished as the sound of crunching grass met his ears. With his heart pounding, William spun around and stared into the thin grove of trees. Flickering shadows moved between the limbs, hardly even discernable in the shade of the copse. His paw strayed to the sword hilt, where it clenched the leather handle tightly.

The first stone whizzed past his head, actually whistling as it split the air. William leapt to the side as two more screeched in, narrowly missing him. He drew the blade with the rasp of metal on wood, clutching the weapon as his breath came in short, raggedy gasps. As more stones were hurled towards him, William was forced to stumble back, trying to find anywhere to take cover.

This gave his attackers the moment they had been waiting for. Two foxes and a raccoon, all dressed in nothing more than patched rags, ran screaming and shouting from the trees. Each fox wielded a club, fashioned from thick branches. The raccoon stopped a short ways away, drawing the string on a slingshot and aiming down its length.

William could only watch and bring his sword up as the foxes advanced, grinning wickedly and splitting off to each side. He had nowhere to go as the vermin circled, cackling and swinging their weapons murderously.

The raccoon chuckled and looked briefly to one of the foxes. "Looks like a good catch today, eh mate?"

The fox nodded, tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Yah yah, good catch 'um!"

"Harr harr, that's right!" The raccoon, who seemed to be the leader, looked back to William. "Why don't you play along, mousey, and drop that pig-sticker?"

The mouse didn't speak, which seemed to infuriate the striped villain. What he didn't realize was that William was far too terrified to say a word. "I said leggo o' that sword, snot-face!" The raccoon shrieked. Jerking his head to one side, he motioned to the fox. "Moggo, do it for 'im!"

Chortling dumbly, Moggo advanced with his club raised. William caught this out of the corner of his eye, and turned to face the opponent. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched the vermin raise his weapon, starting to bring it down onto his head.

Something flashed in William's eyes, and before even he realized what his paws were doing, the sword had blocked the clumsy attack. And without even pausing to gape at the astonishing feat, William felt his paws pushing and twisting, wrenching the club from his enemy's grip and continuing on, straight down into the fox's shoulder.

William's ears had never before heard a creature shriek such as when the blade met the fox's flesh. Only able to stare in fascinated horror as blood spurted from the wound, William watched as Moggo screeched in agony and fell to his knees, trying to staunch the bleeding. William seemed frozen in place as well, although his blade was already moving, seemingly on its own, to move in the way of another attack, this time coming from the other fox. His paws and arms seemed to be affixed to the sword, simply following its movements. This time, the club shattered and sent splinters into the fox's face, who yelped and fell, clutching the blood-stained chunks of wood.

William's mind, although clouded with the horror and disgust of what he had just done, suddenly remembered the raccoon, still standing behind him with slingshot ready. He could almost feel the stone leaving the string, ready to do its work.

But nothing happened. He heard the raccoon grunt and release the string, sending the stone zipping past William's head. He was stunned, unable to imagine missing such a close shot. He turned around, fully intent on asking the vermin how he could miss.

The raccoon was still standing, but shaking on his weak knees. His face was a mask of shock and agony, eyes wide as saucers. One of his paws, trembling uncontrollably, trailed up to the solid ash-wood arrow, embedded in his throat. He let out a half sigh, half gurgle, and fell without another sound.

William was stunned by what had occurred. He didn't register the arrow at first, too repulsed by what he had just done to the foxes. But as his eyes fell, he noticed the shaft sticking from the raccoon's body. His eyes immediately widened, and he began to turn in order to ascertain where the arrow had come from.

"Move one more inch and you'll end up like him." William froze at the voice, which, although obviously female, was as cold as ice and sharp as a razor. He took a shuddering breath, raising his paws, one still clutching the sword.

"I'm not one of them," he said after a moment of racking his brain for the right words.

"Obviously."

He tried to think past the fear. "What do you want from me?"

"Drop the sword, mouse. Nice and far away where you can't get to it."

Hesitantly, he chucked the blade a good ten feet away, keeping his hands raised. "Now what?"

"Now you're going to turn around so I can get a good look at you."

The first thing William noticed when he faced the creature was the bodkin-tipped arrow, pointing straight at the center of his forehead. The next was the creature herself. She was an average-looking squirrel, with the cinnamon-hued fur and almond eyes of most in this area. But the resemblances stopped there. She wore a full jerkin, along with a maille shirt and leather archery braces.

But her eyes caught William completely off-guard. They were a steel gray, almost like the head of the arrow. They told a story completely on their own, of seasons spent witnessing travesty and sadness. And yet, deep in their cobalt depths, there was a spark of a beast unwilling to give in or subside.

After a moment of nothing but the whine of the insects, the squirrel sighed and lowered her bow, letting the string slacken. "Mouse, eh? I suppose you wouldn't be with those scum."

William found his voice. "I said I wasn't."

She smiled wryly. "And so did the last stoat I caught trying to rob a family going down the road. And I don't like liars."

"Well," he continued, trying not to show the fear in his eyes. "I'm not one of them. My name's William, by the way."

She ignored his outstretched paw, instead choosing to place her arrow back into the bark-wood quiver resting at her side. "My title is of little importance, but they call me Astrid. If it makes any sort of difference."

William shuffled uncomfortably as Astrid went to the raccoon's body, checking the wound. "Hmm...Hit just a tad high." With a casual yank, she pulled the arrow from the vermin's body. William involuntarily winced at the sound.

"Where are you heading, mouse?" She said, cleaning the arrow point with a strip of cloth from the raccoon's cloak.

William picked up his sword, haltingly wiping the blood away with a clump of grass. "North. At least, I think so. That's where the Verkora went some years ago. I'm going to find them."

Astrid could only frown as something flashed in her eyes. "The Verkora? Those knights from further west? Good luck with that, mouse. Nobeast has seen hide nor hair of them for ages."

"Firstly, my name is William, not mouse." William could feel his temper rising slightly. "And secondly, I know that. But that's the only way of finding who my father was."

"You're a trusting creature, William." Astrid continued. "And that isn't always a good thing. How do you know I'm not a vermin spy or an enemy of the Verkora? I could have killed you by now if I had so desired."

That stopped him cold. She was right, of course. But that didn't stop him from trying to counter her argument. "Well you haven't, so I can assume you won't. And besides, vermin don't hire squirrels."

She shook her head, like a mother scolding her child. "You really don't know much of the lands beyond here, do you?"

He could only fume as she went on. "In the far north and east, where the only things that grow are sorrow and grief, creatures will do anything for a scrap of food or bit of money. Entire families will betray their kin, just for a few coins."

William scowled. "I don't care, I have to go. I'll do anything it takes, even..." he didn't want to say the word.

Astrid snorted contemptuously. "Kill? I think you can do that just fine, at least looking at what you did here," she said, gesturing to the bodies.

"I'm no killer!" He exploded, shouting angrily.

"The evidence begs to differ."

William could take it no longer. "Enough of this! Thank you for your help, but I'm not forsaking my journey because of one paranoid squirrel. I head north."

"Fine then, but I'm coming with."

He spun around, partially in shock, partially confusion. "What? Why would you..."

She shrugged. "The pickings around here are getting slim. Those little troublemakers were the first I've seen in weeks. I need to move on if I want to stay in business."

William was repulsed. "Business? So killing and stealing is your profit? I'm not going to travel with a murderer."

"That's good, because neither will I." Astrid unstrung her bow, placing the stave into the quiver. "I'm more of a...opportunist. Besides, I only do it to vermin. It's not like they deserve better."

"It's disgusting! What sort of creature would do such a thing?"

Astrid's eyes flickered as she snapped at him. "The kind who needs to survive! Let me tell you something. When your entire life has been destroyed in front of your very eyes, you do what needs to be done. And if you're to have any hope of finding the Verkora, you'll need to learn that."

William tried to find any reason, any excuse for why this bloodthirsty squirrel shouldn't come with. But he couldn't think of a single thing. "Fine," he said irritably. "But if you travel with me, we do things my way. No robbing, no murder, no fighting unless absolutely necessary."

Astrid snorted. "Why should I follow your rules?"

William gestured to the path with a nod of his head. "This is my quest, not yours. Feel free to leave whenever you see fit. But unless you know of a better option, it seems like this is your only choice as of now."

He was satisfied to see that his argument had been successful. Astrid fumed for a moment, looking like she was about to storm off. But she finally sighed and extended a paw. "Fine," she said as they shook to seal the agreement. "But the first town we come to, I'm leaving. I don't need some righteous, morality-obsessed mouse telling me what to do."

"Good," he said cheerfully. "You're perfectly welcome to. But now, we march north."

Hefting his pack and checking the sword, he set off at a brisk pace, his new-found companion trudging alongside.

* * *

That night found the two travelers huddled around a pitifully small fire. They had set up their camp in a small grove of pines, on another hillside. Astrid had advised against a larger bonfire, insisting that it would just be a beacon for any creatures with less-than-good intentions. So they fed small twigs and sticks to the fire, never allowing it to grow more than a few inches in height.

The two were silent for what felt like ages, and the only sounds were the crackling and popping of the fire, along with the chirps and calls of nighttime insects. Shadows danced and flickered against the trees, giving the illusion of some creature watching them. Finally, William couldn't take the silence any longer. "You never said where you were from," he said to Astrid, who was pretending to be busy by stirring the coals.

She didn't even bother looking up. "It doesn't matter. Where I've been makes no difference, only where I'm going. And for now, that's north."

William tried to ignore awkward feeling settling around camp like a thick fog. "I come from a small village, just a day's march or so from here. It doesn't even have a name," he added with a smirk.

Astrid shook her head. "And why does that matter to me?"

He tried act casual, shrugging. "Maybe you would have liked to know and just weren't saying."

"Do I look like shy to you?"

"No, just...never mind."

They fell back into silence, until William leaped to his paws as a branch snapped nearby. His paw was already clenching the sword hilt when he realized that Astrid was still seated, poking the fire absentmindedly. Embarrassed, he slumped back down and leaned against a log. Astrid looked up briefly. "Where did you get that sword?"

William tried to act defiant, snorting and looking away. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would. And you'll tell me before I make your night very unpleasant. Ants in your blanket can be very uncomfortable, you know."

He sighed, crossing his arms. "It was given to me by my father. Well...almost."

Even Astrid seemed slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"I was raised by two farmer squirrels," William said. "Jeremiah and Martha. They took me in after..." He couldn't think of anything else to say on the matter. "They took me in and raised me as their own. When I left, Jeremiah just turned up with the sword and gave it to me. He didn't say whose it was, or why he had it. He just said to be careful."

He suddenly noticed that Astrid was silent, her eyes far away. Emotion played across her face like waves lapping on the beach, shifting and changing. Her paw holding the stick was trembling, almost unable to keep it in her grasp. William leaned forward, moving to waken her from whatever trance-like state she was in. "Astrid, are you..."

As soon as his claw touched her, she moved like lightning. Before he could react she had drawn a dagger and slashed furiously at him, screaming like a banshee. The blade scored a gash in his paw, making him yelp. He fell back and clutched the wound as blood began to ooze between his fingers.

She dropped the knife as her eyes locked onto William. "Oh seasons..." she gasped, unable to move. "William, I didn't mean to..." She sagged to her knees, shaking and sobbing. Her frame shook as a lone leaf in the wind, utterly helpless.

William swallowed the insults he was about to berate her with and even ignored the slash. For a moment, the only sound was that of Astrid's weeping and the intermittent pop from the fire. Finally, he crawled next to her and wrapped his right paw, the good one, around her shoulders. "Quiet, now." he murmured, remembering the way Martha used to comfort him as a child. "You're alright, I promise. Everything's fine, you're safe."

She cried for another few moments before finally shaking herself and wiping a paw across her red and swollen eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, starting to bandage the wound with a strip of cloth. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I was..."

He shook his head. "You don't have to explain, everything's alright. Just get some sleep and don't worry about it. I'll keep the fire going so you don't get cold."

She sniffled a bit, suddenly seeming much less like a seasoned killer and more like a scared child, frightened of something in the dark and wanting her mother. "Thank you," she said quietly before going to her blanket. William watched her chest rise and fall, settling into a softer rhythm as sleep overcame her. As he added a few more sticks and twigs to the fire, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. _What was she thinking about? _He contemplated. _I've never seen a beast like that before. She seemed lost in another world, lost in her memories. What is she hiding?_

He blinked the thoughts away. It was her business, whatever it was. After all, it was her who didn't want them to become friends. If she wanted to tell him anything, she would. But for now none of that mattered. The only important thing to him was finding the Verkora, finding what had happened to his father. He leaned against a nearby tree trunk, allowing his heavy eyelids to close to the thoughts of clashing steel.


	3. Chapter 3 Last Stand of the Seven

Here we go, chapter 3! I'm going to come right off the bat and say that A) Most of this was written at 9:00 monday night, and B) It may seem short word-count wise, but I do feel that I managed to pack a lot of content in here. It was so weird. At first, a lot of the ideas and scenarios seemed kind of random to me, but as it went on they just seemed to fit together really well. At least I think it did. But that's always up to the readers, isn't it?

R&R please, as always!

P.S: A bit of forewarning: Updates may be a little more sporadic from me in the coming month or so. Junior year is starting to come to a close, and that means a ton of work. That, along with finding the right army recruiter to talk to (I'm sight disbled in one eye, makes enlisting kind of a hassle) is taking up a lot of my time. This isn't saying I will stop updating, far from it. They just be kind of...random, at times. But keep watching, and reading!

* * *

The next morning found the two huddled miserably around a re-kindled fire, which had been near impossible to ignite in the thick, heavy mist that had rolled in across the hills earlier. It was impossible to see any great distance in the fog, which had also left them soaked to the bone. Altogether, it was a horrible morning for the two creatures trying to leech whatever warmth they could from the meager blaze.

William added another pawful of twigs to the sputtering fire, which was sending up constant billows of smoke and steam due to the saturated wood. When he was relatively sure that the flames wouldn't die, he rummaged around in the haversack and produced two somewhat squashed, but dry biscuits. He handed one to Astrid, checking the pot they had suspended over the coals. It was just a few chunks of potato, some leek, onion, and dried fish mixed into water from the nearby river, but it was better than nothing for the two weary creatures.

He glanced up at Astrid, who had been completely silent the entire morning. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but they told much more. William was unsure of what she was feeling. Something about her gaze seemed lost, tortured by a long-buried secret. It was almost like she didn't notice the mouse across from her until he cleared his throat noisily. "The soup is done," he said, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. "It's not much, but..."

She shook her head, holding the bowl out as he poured some of the soup. "No, it's fine. Thank you." Astrid seemed intent on gazing into the bowl, apparently not willing to look up at him.

William sighed quietly, dolling out some for himself. As he ate, William's mind was racing with a constant stream of thoughts and questions. What had caused her to react the way she had the previous night? It was as if she had been in a trance, locked in another world. And when she screamed...he had never heard any sound like it. What was she hiding?

"What's the plan for today?" Her question jerked William from his reverie. She had finally looked up, her eyes with the same cold, calculating gaze as the day before. Her face may as well have been a slab of granite it was so stolid and impassionate.

"Today? Oh, right." William set his bowl down, tapping and drumming his fingers on the sword hilt at his side without noticing. Even in the short time he had gained possession of it, the weapon had seemed to become much more than that to him. It was like a friend, something he never wanted to leave or go without. There was something familiar, something comforting about the cold steel and leather hilt. "I don't see any reason to deviate from the plan. Keep heading north until...until we find something worth looking for. We should stop at the first town we come to and ask around. That is, if it isn't too dangerous. Like you said, it could be..."

She shook her head. "We're still too far south to be in serious danger. As long as we keep our heads and don't take any unnecessary risks, everything should be alright until..."

William knew what she was going to say. "Until we get into the North."

She only nodded, keeping her eyes locked onto the scanty fire. Another eerie, awkward silence descended over the two. William took the time to finish his breakfast, scraping the last few chunks of potato out of the bowl. After washing it out with a flask-full of river water, he re-packed the haversack and stood, watching as Astrid did likewise. She had volunteered to carry not only the heavy cooking pot, but blankets as well. The weight didn't seem to be any sort of strain for her, although William knew from his own experience that it was not an easy task carrying the bag. Astrid simply tightened the straps and set off, William following close behind.

The morning sun began to burn through the fog shortly after. Dew-laden grass sparkled like a sea of emeralds, and the fresh scent of pine hung in the air. William took a deep breath, sighing contentedly. His travel-weary paws seemed to have new life, and his mind was fresh with visions of gallant knights and flashing swords, wavering banners and valiant battle cries. He could almost hear the sounds of battle; Smashing blades, clattering armor, the shrieks of the fallen and shouts of victory. Even the smells seemed to be invading his mind, as clouds of dust were born up by the trampling paws and the metal-tinged scent of spilled blood.

His paw was twitching, falling closer to the sword hilt ever so slowly. William was so distracted by the scenes of valor playing out in his mind that it hardly occurred to him. Even the tedious pattern of marching seemed to have faded in that realm. That was, until his paw brushed the weapon's grip.

It was like being struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. Pure, unfiltered energy shot through William's veins faster than a river's rapids. Fire began to circulate through his limbs, coursing and pulsating like a living thing. William found himself being lifted away from the path, away from his own body. The world was turning dark, except for flittering thoughts and visions along the seemingly tunnel-like expanse. A thunderous, roaring sound overtook the realm. Louder than any crashing waves, more fierce than a lion's roar. William found the resonance oddly comforting, like it had rang through his ears before.

Time itself seemed to slow, bringing him to a halt in the center of the channel. Thoughts and pictures spun round and round, moving with the ebb and flow of the roaring noise. Slowly, it started to fade and the scenes began to settle. William found himself gazing at one in particular, a writhing mass of color and light that shivered and twisted like a pond disturbed by a thrown rock. Only this one didn't stop moving. It kept turning, shifting, yet stayed directly in front of William. As he watched, mesmerized by the strange thing, it began to shimmer with a sort of intensity not unlike the sun itself.

The light began to dull, leaving behind a single picture. And although it seemed frozen in time, the scene was at the same time full of energy and life. William felt himself being drawn towards it, following the unbreakable pull. As he neared, things became clearer. It was a single moment, naught but a fraction of a second. But it told countless secrets.

Seven knights, surrounded on all sides by a seemingly endless mass of writhing, seething rodents. Rats, ferrets, weasels, foxes, each one with a look of murderous bloodlust in their eyes and mouths agape in snarling, malicious grins. It seemed to be a veritable sea of vermin, ready to close in on the small band of fighters and swallow them whole like seven shipwrecked beasts, fighting desperately to stay afloat. The evening twilight was clouded in billows of thick, oily smoke and falling ash, turning the setting sun into a deep pool of scarlet.

Even against the obvious insurmountable odds, the seven warriors raged on, splitting the air with their shouts, like roaring thunder. With axes, spears, bows, swords glinting in the crimson haze they battled, slashing and hacking their approaching enemies into chunks of flesh and bone. The small dirt hill they made their stand on was soaked red with blood. Although each suffered from debilitating injuries and innumerable wounds, none refused to give in. Maille split and shattered while blades bent under the sheer ferocity of their blows. Arrows cleft the air like a hellish wind and cutting down any in their path.

William could not tear his vision away from the grisly scene. His eyes drifted to the seven knights, standing shoulder to shoulder and ignoring the bodies of their fallen comrades littered about like fallen trees. Squirrels, hares, otters, all fought with the dedication and rage of a mid-winter's storm. One of them in particular caught his attention. It was wielding a sword expertly, blade stained with the blood of its victims. At first, William was unsure of what sort of creature it was. But then, as he focused, it became clear.

It was a mouse, not much different than himself. Sharp green eyes, fur like the color of a late season's wheat field, and bared teeth keener than any dagger. William could feel himself drifting towards the creature, moving over the frozen battlefield like a wraith. As he neared the blood-flecked face and clenched paws, realization hit him with the suddenness of an arrow to the heart.

"Father!"

There was no denying this. William stretched out a hazy, shaking paw, trying his hardest to touch the face of the one who had called him son. But everything seemed to be fading, retreating back into darkness. He screamed, trying with every ounce of strength to reach past the invisible bonds holding him back. "No!" He shouted, the sound echoing strangely. "Not this, not now! I need to..."

The rushing noise returned, bringing with it the limitless tunnel of black. He could feel himself being lifted gently away as if on the wings of a great bird. His entire being was unaware of anything except the perpetual roar and soft darkness surrounding him. There was no left, right, up, down; only the endless passageway leading into nothingness.

And then, there was silence.

* * *

Consciousness swam back into reality like some primeval beast clawing its way out of a mud pit. William moaned, bringing a paw up to his aching head. Memories and pictures were swirling around his brain like they had been cast into a giant sea. As he tried to recall what had transpired, his ears began to re-awaken as well. Familiar sounds, like the snapping of a fire and something boiling in a pot, started to trickle in.

He could hear somebeast moving closer and chose to lay still, heart pounding incessantly. They murmured something to themselves, and then placed something warm and soft onto his brow. William almost immediately felt a flood of relief course through his skull, washing away the pains that had been lancing through it just moments before. As the creature moved off, he decided that whoever it was must be friendly. After all, a vermin or highway robber wouldn't be treating him this well. With a little apprehension, he opened his eyes and blinked at what lay about.

Astrid sat crouched in front of the fire, turned away from him. There was a pot hanging over the flames, and she was dipping something into the boiling water and ringing it out carefully. From what he could gather, she had set up camp along a riverbank judging from the course sand and loose rock strewn about. Even in the darkness, he could make out the river itself only a stone's throw away and towering, craggy mountains quite a distance away. Their camp was partially hidden by a large grove of trees on either side, and seemed to be tucked into a small crescent along the river's edge.

He put a paw underneath the blanket he was lying on and tried to sit up. This wasn't a good decision, as the stabbing twinge quickly returned. He winced and stayed still, until he found himself staring into Astrid's face, who was pushing him back down onto the blanket. "Don't try and move," she said, sounding like a mother scolding a sick child. "You hit your head after passing out. Managed to knock it against a rock, I think. Just lay still and hold that warm compress, it should help."

William did as he was told, allowing the ache to fade away. "What happened?" He said, sounding more like a parched frog than a mouse.

Astrid held a bowl to his lips, lifting his head just a fraction with her other paw. "Here, drink this. It'll wet your throat a bit and should help with the pain."

He took a sip of the warm broth, savoring the strong taste. Mint and nettle tea. His mother had always made it when his father or he had gotten an ache or sickness. After taking his fill, he leaned back and cleared his throat. "What happened? Why did I pass out?"

Astrid set the bowl aside, crouching next to him. "That's what I was hoping you could tell me," she said. "We had been walking for hours before I turned around and noticed you swaying about like a drunken bird. You dropped before I could ask what was wrong, which is where I believe you got that nasty bump."

William touched the tender spot on the back of his head, making him wince. "I'm not sure what happened to me. One minute I was fine and the next it was..." his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. What would Astrid say if she knew about William's vision? And more importantly than that, what would she _think?_ He still wasn't sure what her exact intentions were for coming with. For all he knew, she could just be playing this out long enough to rob him. And that episode could play right into her hands, if she chose to use it.

He shook his head slightly. "I think it was just a little too much at first. I'd never traveled that far, let alone that quickly. Takes time to get used to, you know?" He said, offering a weak smile.

Astrid simply nodded, going back to the fire to add a few more pieces of wood. "I can imagine. Luckily for you, our next stop isn't too far away. You should be able to make it even with that goose egg on your noggin."

At first, the comment went right over William's head. But then, his mind clicked back on. "Wait, what do you mean our next stop? This is still my quest, you know. I'm pretty sure that makes me leader. That means I choose where we stop."

The squirrel sighed, obviously exasperated. "Listen here, William, because I'm only going to say this once. You've never been outside that little village of yours, let alone out into the world. If you want to get anywhere on this foolish journey, you'll listen to me on this. Elamor is a stop for everybeast on their way up north. We'd be wise to follow tradition. Besides, you were the one who wanted to stop at the first town we came across. Believe me, I'm just as tired after dragging you for half a day. I need to rest as well."

William managed to prop himself up on one elbow, still fuming a bit. "Elamor? What is that, some sort of trading village?"

Astrid pointed downstream, where the river split into two paths. One led straight, while the other seemed to lead off to the left and into a short valley. Even from this distance, it was easy enough to spot the dull candle glimmer from within the dell. "See that light? That's Elamor. Mostly riverfolk, but you get all sorts of traders and sailors coming through. Makes for an interesting night's stay, I'll tell you," she said, winking. Which was unusual enough for William to blink of surprise.

"So, when do we set off?" He asked. William knew that he wouldn't be fit by the next day, and hopefully so did Astrid. Thankfully, she did.

"Two, maybe three days from now depending on how well you're getting along." She glanced upriver, judging their path from apparent memory. "'s only a two or so hour march from here, so we could leave late in the morning. Once we hide the packs somewhere..."

William cut her off. "Hide the packs? Why do we have to do that?"

Astrid could only shake her head and sigh. "It's simple, William. Imagine this: You're a thieving fox, who's been stuck in the same petty village for six weeks trying to pay off a tavern debt. Now, let's say you spot two weary travelers, carrying full packs and eager to sleep. How long do you think those haversacks would last in town after we set them down? A minute? Two, maybe? I'm not willing to lose my belongings just because we were too lazy to find a good cache spot."

William was silent, knowing that the squirrel was speaking from personal experience. He could only imagine learning such a lesson the hard way. "If you say so. But I'm not leaving the sword."

She simply shrugged. "I didn't say you had to. Just wrap it in a blanket, make it look like a sleeping mat. Nobeast will be the wiser."

He nodded, sinking back down onto the blanket. "Alright, then. I'm going to rest, try and get my strength back up."

Astrid nodded shortly. "You do that. I don't want to be traveling with an injured creature, makes for slow going."

William pulled the cover back over himself, resting his head on another bundled piece of cloth. He wasn't sure why, but even the mere mention of the town seemed to stir something inside him. Like a long-lost memory, or a short talk somebeast had given him long ago.

But as the peaceful night settled over him, unbroken only by the crackling fire and occasional bird call, he let the worries slip away. There was always tomorrow for such things, after all.


	4. Chapter 4 Helvetten

Holy crap, this is a long chapter. Sorry for that. It was just that after writing it up and doing some editing, if I had split it into two parts it wouldn't have worked out as well. Anyway, sorry for not updating in such a long time. We've got the AP (advanced placement) test coming up at school and studying is taking up every spare moment. But I managed to crank this one out with a little time.

And for any DoF fans *cough*d1996*cough* Don't worry, the next chapter is hopefully coming soon. Like I said, studying is absolutely killing my brain right now. Just keep reading. And little plug: If anyone is interested, I might do a kind of "intermission" chapter in DoF in a little while, just to have a bit of fun.

Anyway, enough o' that. R&R, as always!

* * *

William awoke late the next morning, when the sun was already starting to ascend higher into the sky. He sat up carefully, checking the pain in his skull. It had receded to a dull, insignificant throb. When he was sure it wouldn't cause any more agony on his part, William got up and checked the campsite. Astrid was gone, leaving her pack but taking both bow and arrows. He felt worried at first, but dismissed the paranoia after remembering how she had dealt with the vermin robbers a few days before.

He suddenly noticed the sword hilt poking out from underneath one of the blankets. His heart leapt slightly, remembering the incident from the previous day. The seven knights surrounded on a hill and destined to be slain. Smashing steel and flecks of blood, the flash of bloodlust in their eyes. Knowing that they would fall but not giving in. His father, roaring in defiance of the growing hordes...

A bolt of lightning shot through his skull. William gasped, stumbling back and landing on the sand sitting upright. The pain was short-lived, but intense enough to form tears in his eyes. William went to get up again, rubbing his temple with one paw. He accidently let the other slip, touching the sword hilt once more.

He sucked in his breath, anticipating a hellish glimpse into another realm or surge of fire. But nothing happened. No pain, no strange trances, not even a tingle. Sighing in relief, he got up and buckled the weapon onto his belt. The weight felt comfortable, like it belonged there. Even moving he hardly noticed it.

Astrid was still nowhere to be seen an hour later. William walked the beach for almost two hundred paces in either direction, searching for any sign of the squirrel. But there was none. After returning to camp for the umpteenth time, he turned away from the water and towards the great hillside in front of him, which in reality was more like a mountain. It was like staring at a solid wall of green, as the slope's face was covered in nothing but evergreen and pine trees. Halfway up the incline another ridge sprouted from the rock like another limb, jutting back towards the river. It too, was covered in a mass of trees.

An idea began to sprout in William's mind. If his memory and eyes were correct from the night before, he should be able to see the town of Elamor from the top of the crest. It would be useful to get a glimpse of the settlement in advance, just in case. In any case, it would do him some good to get a bit of exercise. He grabbed a few things out of the pack, but foregoing the entire load. Just a blanket, flint and tinder, small knife, and a few slices of bread in a cloth sack.

He used some extra cord to tie the blanket into a roll and secured it on his back before staring up at the slope. From this distance, it was difficult to see any separation between the individual trees, let alone any sort of path. There was a short dirt bank leading up to the slope, but after that it looked like solid forest. Shaking off thoughts of danger, William began walking towards the massive incline.

Upon reaching the initial slope, he looked up in astonishment. Even from this short distance, the trees seemed to meld together in one gigantic collage of green and brown. There was no obvious path, but there seemed to be enough space between each tree to slip through and get to the ridge. William took a deep breath and extended a paw, beginning the climb.

It wasn't easy going by any means, but William quickly discovered that he could use the lower-hanging branches as pawholds to pull himself up the steeply-angled grade. The dirt underneath him was firm and just slightly damp, perfect for climbing. He dug in his footpaws, gritted his teeth, and continued on.

Sunlight gained an eerie green tint in the massive expanse of forest. Dust glittered in the emerald rays while gentle gusts of wind drifted through the tree limbs. William took a deep breath of the fresh pine scent, savoring the odor. He remembered the village and how the only trees that grew were short and bare, usually without any sort of smell at all. Rain constantly turned the dirt into paw-trapping sludge. It was nothing like this fresh, lively environment that seemed to stretch forever all around him.

By the time he reached the ridge, William was panting for breath and dripping sweat. As he turned towards the rim, the going got even tougher. Now, instead of climbing straight up, he had to contend with the horizontal motion as well. Within a matter of minutes, his footpaws were shooting with pain. He pressed doggedly on, using the trees to stabilize the unwieldy gait. It was almost beginning to be too much by the time a small opening appeared in the solid wall of green, nothing more than a sliver of blue.

William pushed onwards, determined to see what lay beyond the expanse of forest. He slipped and fell, landing painfully on the compacted soil. As he looked up, a gasp escaped his lips.

Elamor sat in a natural harbor formed by the river, flanked on all sides by sheer cliffs and banks of solid woodland. The town itself sat nestled in the far side of the port, surrounded completely by the natural protection of the craggy mountains. Water flowing on from the river evidently created a unique current; allowing ships to enter on one side of the harbor and exit the other using the water's slipstream. And even from here, William could see the fortifications built into the mountains' faces. Impossible to notice from down in the harbor due to the sharp angle, but visible from across the almost valley-like expanse.

It was then that William decided to look straight down, which he quickly realized was a bad idea. Instead of the banks of trees, there was nothing but solid rock and long-dead tree stumps, most nothing more than jagged chunks of wood managing to cling onto the hostile cliff. He suddenly realized that it was a means of defense. No sensible enemy would ever approach from within the harbor, so their next obvious course of action would be to go over the mountains. It was obvious that anybeast who chose this plan would be quickly disappointed. Or dead, for that matter.

"Not a bad idea, eh?" William spun around at the sudden voice, which turned out to be Astrid standing behind him with a smug grin on her face.

He stood up and began dusting himself off, embarrassed that she had gotten the drop on him. "Where did you come from?" He asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice level after being frightened so suddenly.

She gave him a nonchalant shrug. "I was up here before you, higher up in fact. It's a lot easier to get a view of things from the peak. But I knew you wouldn't be long to follow, anyway. Just a matter of time."

William sighed exasperatingly. "How do you know all these things?"

She grinned slyly. "Tricks of the trade, mouse. Now, what say you we start heading into town?"

"What about my...injury?" He asked. "Shouldn't we wait another day?"

"Seems to be fine, if you managed to climb all the way up here." She glanced at his sword. "Might want to wrap that up. Just roll it in the blanket and tie it over your shoulder, like a sleeping mat."

He did so, trying his best to make it look like he wasn't following her orders. "Fine. But we can't get down this slope. How are we getting in?"

She was already moving, making sure he was doing the same. "Same way as everybeast; walk right in. I've had dealings with the gate guards before. They're either so old or tired that we could sneak an entire ship's armory through there and not get caught. And if any of them do give us any trouble, I've always got some...materialistic persuasion," She said, jingling a small pouch on her belt.

William couldn't resist a smile as he navigated the awkward path. "Bribery already? It's going to be an interesting trip."

It took them almost two full hours to get down the mountainside and another three to get around it. They had hidden the packs along the way, tucked into a small cavern formed by a multitude of fallen trees. After covering the entrance with ferns and pine branches, it might as well have been invisible.

William took another step, enjoying the sensation of soft river sand underneath his footpaws after such a demanding trek on the mountain. He looked up as Astrid whistled to get his attention. "Here's the situation," she said, speaking over her shoulder. "When we get to the main gates, let me do the talking. Don't look any of the guards in the eye, but don't look suspicious. Once we get inside, priority number one is finding somewhere to sleep. Here," she said, handing back a few gold pieces. "This is for you. After we get settled in you can find something to eat, enjoy yourself. I've got some...affairs to attend to. I'll be at the town well in the morning."

He was silent; wondering what sort of 'affairs' Astrid was referring to. He noticed the dangerous glint in her eye and decided not to press the issue. But it still made him think. What was she really up to, and why did she want to stop at this town specifically? Something didn't feel right, but soon the worries drifted away as they approached the town gates.

"Gates", however, was a very loose term. As they walked up a short, shallow incline, they were greeted with the sight of a beam resting across the path, held up on either end by a simple truss. There was a poorly-constructed lean-to off to one side, where a bleary-eyed hedgehog, wearing a set of filthy cloth pants and jacket, sat underneath with a bottle of ale held loosely in one paw.

He looked up unsteadily as the two approached, standing on shaking legs. "'Alt," he said, holding out a paw. "I need t' inshpect ye 'afore comin' inta –_hic- _town."

Astrid winked at William, muttering under her breath. "Watch this."

She swaggered up, putting a friendly paw on the hog's shoulder. "Why 'ello there, mate!" Her tone was like one addressing an old friend, not a half-drunk hedgehog road guard. "How've ye been doing these past seasons? Missus still givin' ye a hard time about those little 'uns?"

The hog hardly even seemed to care that he didn't know the squirrel, let alone that she was inquiring about his family. "Aye, day an' night. It'sh like _–hic- _talkin' to a brick wall shometimesh."

She nodded seriously, reaching one paw into her pocket. "I hear ye, mate. Here, why don't ye just go back under the hut and have a drink? It's a quiet night, ain't nothin' happening anyhows."

The guard grasped the three coins she slipped him, sniffing them. "What're these...ah, it'sh...er, go on a'ead." He gestured to the log, stumbling back to the ramshackle structure.

Astrid looked back to William and nodded, leaping over the obvious ineffective barricade. He did likewise, waiting until they were out of the hedgehog's earshot before speaking. "You've done that before, haven't you?"

She waved a paw dismissively. "Old Gibbon isn't any sort of trouble. Slip him a tankard of beer or a few coins, and it's like we didn't even pass by. Besides, it's not like we're hurting him. Seasons, we're probably _helping _the old hog."

William could only shake his head, trying to hide the smile creeping across his face.

Elamor became clearer as they approached, looping around the harbor. Most of the town seemed centered around two main roads, running parallel to eachother. Most of the buildings seemed hastily and improperly built, but in the rapidly fading sunlight it was easy to spot the dozens of windows lit by candle and lamp-light. Some sort of paw-tapping tavern melody carried over on the wind, along with the laughter and occasional shattering of a glass window.

As they drew closer, they passed a group of obviously inebriated ferrets and weasels, who had linked arms and were singing an incomprehensible sea shanty. One of them raised their bottle to the two passers-by, shouting in a gruff voice. "Welcome t' Elamor, lad an' laddess! Finest river-goin' port on the 'ole lot!" He promptly tripped and fell onto his face, laughing idiotically.

William and Astrid gave them a wide berth and continued on, starting to reach the outskirts of town. Poorly constructed houses and countless tents littered the streets, each filled with all manner of dirty, smelly, and often drunk creatures. Most just stared at the two with an indifferent silence. A few beasts approached, begging for money.

"Please, sah," a wiry, tunic-wearing rat was saying, jogging alongside them. "I ain't seen no food for two days, an' I gots little 'uns to feed. Please, sah, you wouldn't want 'em to go hungry, would ye?"

Astrid stayed William's paw, which was reaching for a few coins to give the seemingly unfortunate beast. "Get out of my sight, vermin." She said, drawing herself to full height. "I won't have a piece of river-trash like you taking our coins. Now go, before I make your evening very...unpleasant."

The rat looked ready to fight, balling his fists and puffing out his chest. But one good look into Astrid's eyes left him standing in the road, scowling angrily at the two travelers.

William took a fleeting glance back at the now skulking rat. "Why did you have to do that? Maybe he really does have a family."

Astrid snorted contemptuously. "Right, an honest-working father, covered in pirate tattoos and hiding a dagger in his boot? I don't think so. Things are not always as they appear to be, William. In fact, they very rarely are in places like this."

After rounding one last bend, they finally arrived in Elamor itself. William stood in wonder, taking in the sight.

They stood on one of the main roads, which ran parallel but furthest from the water. Crowded with shouting, singing, laughing, and fighting beasts, it seemed impossible that so many could live on a single stretch of compacted dirt. It was obvious that most of the buildings had been constructed by a novice, judging from the moldy timbers and sagging walls. Almost every fourth building seemed to a tavern or bar, while the rest seemed to be nothing more than houses teeming with the same sorts of clientele. Thick, acrid smoke hung in the air from dozens of oil lamps which hung on posts along the street. But it still couldn't contend with the putrid odors permeating the air. Anybeast who wasn't drinking seemed to be fighting or passed out.

William clasped a paw over his nose as one particularly foul-smelling fox stumbled past. "How can they live like this?" He shouted over the tavern songs and brawling crowds.

Astrid shrugged, motioning for him to follow her along the side of the road, where it seemed relatively open. "They've been doing it for years. I don't see anything changing, at least not soon. But that's not your concern. Right now, you need to find somewhere to sleep. If you can't find an open inn or tavern, I'm sure somebeast would spare you their foyer in exchange for a couple coins."

He cast another glance over the hectic scene. Sure enough, there was a three-story building just across the street with a sign hanging over the door. It showed the picture of a weasel sleeping peacefully on a straw mat, behind rows of steel bars. The words underneath were scrawled in barely-legible ink. "The Buccaneer's Brig."

William nodded towards it. "That could work. We'll meet there in the morning, as long as..." But as he turned, Astrid was already gone. He sighed and adjusted the bundle over his shoulder, making sure the cord was secure. "I guess so."

Getting across the street was an adventure in itself. Constantly being jostled and shoved by the ever-shifting crowd of beasts, he had to dodge and weave crazily just to avoid being trampled. After nearly being punched, kicked, and stepped on, he managed to reach the other side and step into the foul-smelling inn. Conditions inside were no better than on the street. In fact, they were probably worse. Every spare inch of counter, every single table and chair was taken by grog-swigging and ale-chugging beasts of every shape and size. William had to step over half a dozen unconscious creatures just to reach the counter and get the owner's attention. "I need a room," he shouted over the noise, sliding a few coins across the counter.

The mangy-looking fox, who had enough piercings to make his ears sag, swiped up the three coins and inspected them closely before tossing William a key from under the table. "Take th' stairs on yer left thar, first door t' the left. Don't muck 'er up any more than ye 'ave to."

William took the iron key and ascended the steps that ran along the far left wall of the tavern. The rooms were directly above the bar room, which did nothing to diminish the noise. He approached the first door, which seemed to be made from planks of driftwood lashed together with cordage. After some coaxing, he managed to get the key into the rusted lock and turn.

To call the room small, dirty, and uncomfortable wouldn't have been much different than calling a fish wet. Sitting along one of the rotting, cracked walls sat a bed that would have queered away the most filthy, slime-coated vermin in the entire land. It was clear that any other furniture that had once resided in the cramped cell-like room was long since broken or stolen. The stench, a horrifyingly unique mixture of sweat, river water, and other unmentionable odors was enough to cause William to gag.

Breathing as lightly as possible, he looked about and decided on a corner that looked relatively free of scum and filth. He spread out the blanket, making sure that the sword was still unharmed. It was, along with the pristine sheath. Even after the days of continuous marching the blade still shone brilliantly. William was hardly aware of the smile creeping over his features as he carefully inspected the weapon's edge with a paw. Sharp enough to cut the fur straight off, but not overly so. The perfect balance for an implement of war.

_A shame nobeast is here to teach me. _William frowned at this. It was true; there probably wasn't a competent swordsbeast in the entire town. Of those who carried weapons, most looked too drunk or inexperienced to swing it properly, much less cause any sort of damage. Of course, it didn't matter if the beast who cleaved him in two knew what they were doing or not. Sooner or later, William knew that it would be a necessary skill. _But how? _He thought desperately. Astrid seemed skilled enough with her bow, and most likely knew some tricks with the dagger, but not with a full-length blade.

William shook the doubts away for the moment. There was always time for those things later. For now, all he wanted to do was get out of this stinking room.

Re-wrapping the sword and tying it over his shoulders, William stepped out of the room and locked the door carefully before slipping the key into a pocket. The last thing he needed was to come back in a few hours to find himself locked out.

The party downstairs hadn't slackened at all. In fact, it seemed to grow in size and intensity as the night wore on. William skirted around a number of beasts passed out on the floor and finally made it outside. It was the same as before. Same hordes of foul-smelling creatures, same ruddy light from dozens of candle-lit windows, and same constant haze of smoke in the air.

All William desired was someplace relatively quiet to organize his thoughts. He knew, looking at the dozens of pubs and seedy-looking establishments that those hopes were quickly fading. But something caught his eye. A glimpse of the harbor, moonlight glistening on the still waters. William smiled, realizing that any sailor worth his salt would be in town getting their fix of land before shipping out again. The port should be quiet, and above all, empty.

It took a few attempts, but William finally slipped through the shifting crowd of beasts in the road and onto the path leading to the harbor. It was far enough away that by the time his paw touched the wood dock, Elamor was just a glimmering orb and distant sound.

Looking down the pier, William saw that of the six jetties, three were taken by large river-faring ships. With sails tied and oars stashed, they looked like skeletal figures, taking a moment's rest before continuing on their ghostly journey over the waters. Not a soul stirred on the empty boardwalk, exactly what William was looking for.

He strode carefully over the weather-toughened boardwalk, wary of any cracked or fractured beams. All it took was one set of attentive ears, a single broken plank, and he could be discovered. Not that he was doing anything wrong. William just felt that averting any confrontation was better than having to answer some very incriminating questions.

When he was satisfied that the harbor was completely void of any living soul, he began to pace up and down the wharf as his mind became lost in thought. Memories of the strange vision came back, flashing in his mind intermittently. Why had the sword done that to him? Nothing like that had happened when Jeremiah gave him the weapon. Even when he had been attacked by those vermin, and the terrible feelings of rage and bloodlust had overcome him, there hadn't been any visions of his father or the knights of Verkora.

And what did Astrid _really _have to gain by coming with him? He could feel that there was more to her story than she was telling. That, along with her insistence on stopping here in Elamor, left a lingering feeling of doubt in his mind. She was hiding something, and if he didn't find out what, there was no telling what sort of havoc it could wreak.

William sighed, rubbing his forehead. It all seemed too big for somebeast like him. He was just the adopted son of a farmer, living in a village so small it didn't even have a name! How could he possibly find the answers to things like this? That was for beasts like...like the knights of Verkora.

He let out a frustrated sigh, starting to look into the night sky as if to ask for help from the stars. But his eyes stopped halfway, staring at the name inscribed on the stern of the ship closest to him. _Helvetten._

A single, blinding image burnt itself into William's mind for but a brief second. Seaspray, rocks, shouts and horrified wails. But it wasn't from the ship. It was something else, something coming for it. Fire, embers blazing in the evening twilight. Nothing could stop it, it was doomed. Beasts jumped to the seas, swallowed in its gaping maws. Cracking timbers, jets of water shooting up to the clouds.

William gasped for air, falling to a knee as his legs shook uncontrollably. That ship, he knew it somehow. It meant something horrible, but not the ship itself. The ship had been safe, but it had been found. And its destiny was one that lay at the bottom of the sea. So how was it here?

Forcing himself to stand, William couldn't tear his eyes away from the vessel. It was almost calling to him, begging the mouse to uncover the secrets hidden inside. William swiveled his head from side to side, assuring himself that nobeast was present. When he was sure of his relative safety, it was just a matter of finding the gangplank. The ship looked as if it had been moored somewhat recently, as the sails and various ropes hanging from the masts hadn't been repaired yet. Even from his small amount of knowledge about ships, William knew that those tasks were always crucial to any sea-faring venture. Obviously, it was something the captain wanted to put off until he had satisfied his taste for land.

William stepped onto the deck, holding his breath in anticipation and listening intently for any sounds that might give him cause to bolt. All he could hear was the gentle lapping of water against the hull and the occasionally creak of the aging wood.

The craft was obviously built for simplicity and function, not aesthetics. The only sort of decoration that graced the wind-sheared rails and aging deck was a few primitive carvings done by some of the crew. A set of stairs at the stern of the ship led to the captain's deck, where the various rudder controls sat. Below that there was a single door, with the words "Crewbeasts only" stenciled in splotchy handwriting.

Taking a breath to calm his shaking nerves, William walked to the entranceway and grabbed the latch, fully expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, the lock was open, sending him falling into the room. William leapt to his feet, heart pounding as he surveyed what appeared at first glance to be the captain's quarters. Directly ahead of him sat a chipped table, bolted onto the floor. The only other furniture was the few chairs stacked in one corner and a cabinet in the other. What little moonlight was available came in through two windows on each side of the room, each using a pane of filthy, cracked glass.

William was dumbfounded. Surely this couldn't be the only room aboard? Where did the crew sleep? Where were the supplies kept? He was baffled, until a brief ray of moonlight illuminated a trapdoor just in front of his paws. It obviously wasn't hidden, and the hinges opened easily as William lifted. As he gazed down into the underbelly of the ship, his eyes met the welcome sight of lit candles. Without a second thought, he slid down the short ladder and into the hold.

It was obvious that this vessel was made for speed. The actual hold itself only seemed to take up about half of the ship, leaving the bow completely empty. Bunks, crates, desks, chairs, clothes, and other possessions were stuffed into the small space available. There were four candle-holders, two on each wall, but it appeared that only one was lit. William plucked it off the wall and made his way around the room, lighting the remaining three wicks. He had just returned the first candle to its holder when, in the blink of an eye, a dagger blade settled against his throat.

William's consciousness spun in terror, heart pounding as the beast spoke in a rattling whisper. "Put the candle back nice and slow, mouse, or I'll be mopping up yore blood like spilt ale."

Paws trembling, William managed to fit the wax back into place. "Good," the creature said, coaxing him with the knife to take a few steps back. "Now, raise those paws high. There you are, just like that. Now, I'm gonna untie this little pack ye've got here. Don't do anythin' ye'd regret."

William could feel the stranger loosen the cords holding the blanket together and catching the bundle as it fell. After a moment, he heard the beast inhale sharply and mutter something under his breath. Before he had a chance to even utter a word, there was a painful thud and flash of stars as the dagger hilt collided with the back of William's skull.

He crumpled to the floor, trying to blink away the flashing orbs in his vision as the attacker hauled William to his feet, pushing the unfortunate mouse into a bulkhead. He could only suck in breath after breath as the blade pricked his throat again. "Who are you?" The voice was still as malicious as before, but there was something else there. Curiosity, confusion perhaps? "Speak, mouse!"

Gritting his teeth past the agonizing pain in the back of his head, William managed to choke out a reply. "William, from the southern lands. I'm just traveling through, I didn't..."

He winced as the knife scored a small cut on the back of his neck. "Shut up, fool. I asked who ye were, not where ye were going. Now, speak truthfully, or you'll regret every second until death takes you. How did you get this sword?"

"My father gave it to me; he said I was supposed to..."

He felt the weapon's edge beginning to dig into his flesh as the creature hissed into his ear. "I hate liars. I hate their miserable quakin' guts! Last beast that tried t' pull the wool over my eyes ain't around to tell the story. And as of now, mouse, you're a liar!"

William knew he had mere seconds. A final, desperate attempt escaped his lips. "Jeremiah, he gave it to me. A farmer squirrel, he and his wife took me in. He had the sword."

There was a moment of almost palpable contemplation as William's attacker hummed to himself. Finally, the creature relaxed his grip on the weapon, but still kept it near. "Better. One more thing, 'afore I slits yore throat. What's the name Verkora mean to ye?"

William's mind went blank. If this creature knew of the Verkora, what did that mean for him? He swallowed, trying to think of a reply. Finally, resigning himself to a terrible fate, William closed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. "Depends on who's asking."

The beast actually chuckled. "Bravery, I like that in a doomed beast. Makes it interestin'. Let's just say I'm the sorta beast that can choose whether yore death is quick and painless, or long enough for ye to plead for an arrow to the heart."

Before he could stop himself, William spoke up. "This ship, the _Helvetten_, it shouldn't be here. It sunk, didn't it?"

There was a moment of tense, unbearable silence. Then, William's assailant clasped a paw on his shoulder and spun him around.

William was staring into the scarred, gray-streaked face of an otter. It was obvious that he had seen a life of hardship and strife, evident not only from the numerous wounds scattered across his face, but the swirling, shifting look in his eyes. He leaned forward, keeping the weapon at the mouse's throat and speaking in a voice cold enough to send chills up William's spine. "How d'ye know about that?"

He tried to think of something clever, anything that could stay his attacker's paw for just a few more minutes. But nothing came. "I...I don't know. I saw the ship, and it just came to me."

The otter squinted, tightening his grip on the dagger. William gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blade to slip between his ribs. Instead, he felt the otter's grip relax as he stepped away. Stuffing the weapon back into a filthy, torn sash tied around the simple cloth shirt, the mysterious otter leaned against the opposite bulkhead as William rubbed his neck. "Yore in a tricky spot here, mouse. I can still kill you just as easily as 'afore. O'course, that'd leave a lot of questions unanswered. Like how you got a'old of that sword, for one thing."

William had managed to collect himself enough to offer a response. "I told you, Jeremiah gave it to me. I don't know how he got it. And what makes you so sure you could kill me?"

The otter laughed; a genuine, body-shaking chortle that soon had tears streaming down his face. "What makes me...hahaha, that's a good 'un. Believe me, lad, I could gut you like a fish in the time it takes most to get the hook out. But as I said, right now that ain't in my best interests right now, or yours for that matter. Right now, all I want t'know is what you know of the Verkora."

William made a quick decision. "Not much. They came through my village when I was younger, and a few weeks ago I decided to leave and try and find them."

The otter was on him in a flash, choking the life out of him with two powerful paws wrapped around his throat. "The truth, runt," he hissed. "Or I kill you here and now. I know about the visions! Now talk!"

William managed to choke through the panic starting to cloud his mind. "I don't know anything about it! They just happened!"

He gasped as the otter released his grip. William clamored to his knees as the otter paced back and forth, tapping his chin with the knifepoint. As the mouse heaved in air, the otter started speaking again, almost as if he hadn't just tried to kill William. "So, who's the unlucky beast travelin' with ye? I sure as 'ellgates wouldn't want to be that poor creature."

Knowing that he couldn't give Astrid up to this murderous otter, William shook his head defiantly. "I'm alone. I don't want anybeast knowing about my...journey. Of course, it seems that you know an awful lot for a bilge-otter."

The otter seemed satisfied with the answer. "Sensible enough, I s'pose. And as far as yore concerned, William me boy, I'm much more than some stowaway. I'm the beast that can get ye to the Verkora. At least, what's left of 'em."

William's head was swimming. "Wait, what do mean? You know where the Verkora are? How do you know?"

Something flashed in his adversary's eyes, but the otter kept up his incessant pacing. "Knew some beasts a while back, did some tradin' with 'em. But that ain't the issue. I'm still surprised ye got this far, and on the right track at that. They're still hidin' in the northlands, same as they always were."

Ignoring his apparent unwillingness to answer as to _how _he knew the Verkora, William continued pressing him for answers. "You said you could take me to them. Why would you even bother? Right now I'm just some mouse stealing aboard your ship carrying a sword that may or may not belong to a knight of the Verkora."

He watched as the otter's eyes dulled. The spark of mockery and amusement in the steel-colored orbs seemed to fade as the otter struggled to piece together a response. "I...there was a...'s not important. All ye need to know is that as of now, I'm the only creature ye can trust. Whether ye choose to believe me or not, William, there's beasts out there right now hell-bent on findin' the exact same thing yore lookin' for, only with...different intentions."

"What sort of intentions?"

"It's not worth speakin' about now, lad." The otter looked back up, the life restored to his eyes. "Right now ye've got a right quick decision to make. Do ye continue as before and lose everythin', or do ye trust the ol' Jonas Hagen to guide ye through this journey?"

The name sent a ringing sensation through William's mind. _Jonas Hagen, I know that. But where, where did I hear it? _He ignored it for a moment, focusing on the situation at hand. "How do I know you're not just some robber waiting for a catch? Frankly, you haven't shown to be a trustworthy beast as of yet."

Jonas smiled, an oddly welcoming sight. "Would a robber know about the Verkora? I don't think so, lad. And as for the welcome I gave ye earlier, can't we just let the past go? After all, ye ain't dead."

William tapped a finger against his shoulder. It was true; the average thief wouldn't have any knowledge of the Verkora, or their where-abouts. And even if he was lying, William knew that he could always slip away when the time was right. Before anything of his was taken, of course.

The otter shook his paw firmly after William offered it. "Good choice, bucko."

William smiled, albeit with an icy coldness that even he was unfamiliar with. "I think so. But be warned here and now, Jonas. If you play me false, so help me I'll have the rivers running scarlet before nightfall."

Jonas returned the grin. "Wouldn't want to have it any other way, lad."


	5. Chapter 5 Herazka

Hah! I'm back! No, I wasn't dead or taken to some secret government compound deep in the mojave desert. That was last weekend. AP test studying has been killing me, though. Slowly, painfully, gouging and scratching at every last bit of sanity that still remains inside my fevered mind, preying on...*looks around* Erm, sorry about that. But I finally got around to relaxing for just a few minutes to do some writing and editing.

And thus, enjoy the newest chapter of Whence we Came! Ye know, I'm not really sure where that title came from. Hmmm...I'll have to think over that. Anyway, enjoy, and as always R&R!

* * *

William rose early the next morning. He wasn't surprised to find a note from Astrid tacked to the door as he walked out after packing up his belongings. "Meet at the town hall after you get up. Bring your supplies."

Hefting the blanket-wrapped sword over one shoulder, William made his way downstairs. The floor was littered with broken furniture, spilt drinks, and dozens of snoring, unconscious beasts. Even the bartender was slumped over in a chair, tongue lolling out of his mouth. William tossed the key at him, not concerned whether or not the fox knew when he had left. Especially considering the fact that this particular beast would be trying to nurse a headache big enough to fell a badger when he came to wakefulness.

The morning had dawned gray, but already the sun was beginning to poke through the mist. William made his way down the empty street, allowing his mind to wander. He had told Jonas about Astrid, but the otter didn't seem to care. "You said it yoreself, lad," he had told William. "If she doesn't like it, she can stop here at Elamor and ne'er see the likes of us again."

William had reluctantly agreed with the otter, but still felt uneasy about the whole situation. Despite her persisting callousness and cold attitude towards his situation, William realized that Astrid had certain skills that could be the difference between success and lying dead at the bottom of a ravine or skewered by an arrow. And besides, what possible reason would she have for denouncing Jonas' coming along? She might complain and try to get him to leave, but in the end she would probably just grumble and continue on.

The town hall finally appeared, tucked away between a blacksmiths and, seasons-of-wonder, a pub. The windows were firmly shuttered, and the door was barred. William tried to open it, but found his efforts useless. Evidently Astrid wasn't inside. He sighed and leant against one of the weather-battered walls, listening to the morning birdsong and waves gently rolling onto the beach. It was only when the sound of heavy pawsteps on the road met his ears did he look up.

Jonas was no longer dressed in the ramshackle tunic he had been wearing the night before. Instead, he was adorned in a somewhat battered but quality-made vest of maille, with a cinnamon-hued shirt underneath and heavy leather gloves. On his thick belt rested a formidable-looking broadsword, almost big enough to be called a claymore. He also carried a thick, short-bladed dagger sheathed across his chest.

William gaped as the otter swaggered up and rested a paw casually on the hilt of his sword. "Mornin, lad! Fine day for a bit of travelin', eh?"

"How did you...where...what _is _all of that?" William was stunned by what he was seeing. It was almost similar to what the Verkora had looked like.

The otter waved a paw dismissively, as if the impressive garb he was clothed in was little more than a few trinkets. "From me ol' militia days, kept it around just in case."

"Who in hellgates is this?"

William hadn't even seen Astrid until it was too late. She was standing at the other end of the porch, arms crossed and a look of distaste beginning to settle over her face. William stammered, trying to avoid staring into the daggers seeming to emanate from Astrid's eyes. "Astrid, I didn't...ah, this is Jonas, he..."

Jonas bowed respectfully. "M'lady, I'm one of William's recent acquaintanceships. 'Tis an honor to meet..."

She cut him off simply by raising a paw. "Shut up, riverdog. William, what are you thinking? Do you even know this beast?"

William sighed, exasperated, and related the story of how Jonas and he had met the night before. She listened, still glowering angrily. As he finished, Astrid just shook her head. "He's not coming with."

Time to play the ultimatum, William thought to himself. He took a breath and tried to sound as confident as possible. "He's coming with, Astrid, and that's final. Jonas has experience that we need, and I'm not going to let your little rules get in the way of our success. If you don't want to be bothered with him, then that's fine by me. Stay here in Elamor, go off wherever you want. But Jonas is coming with, whether you like it or not."

Astrid seemed ready to explode, breathing rapidly and balling her paws into fists. But the sense in his words finally broke through the haze of anger. "Fine," she spat, glancing at the smirking otter. "But if he lags behind or causes trouble, he'll have wished we left him here at the docks."

Jonas bowed again, albeit this time much more exaggerated. "Of course, m'lady. Now, we better be off. I want t' catch the currents 'afore noon."

Astrid seemed confused, sputtering as William and Jonas made for the docks. "Currents? What are you talking about? We're trekking out of this valley, through the..."

Jonas smirked, trying not to show his contempt. "Through the rocky hills and valleys, which'd take weeks to navigate? I don't think so. We're goin' through the rivers. Faster, easier, safer...well, mayhap not safer per say, but sure as sunrise it's faster."

As they approached the _Helvetten, _Astrid was still fuming over Jonas' overriding of her decision. She stepped onto deck and glowered as he lifted the mooring line and began coiling the heavy rope. "It would be simpler to go over the hills. There's only a few of them before we get to Mossflower."

Jonas snorted laughter. "A few? By few, do ye mean almost a dozen of the biggest, meanest crags o' rock on the entire face o' the earth? No thank you, marm. We'll be outta this pass in three days, four at the most. 'Sides, there's only one set of rapids. We'll be fine."

William looked sharply back at the otter. "Rapids? You didn't say anything about those."

"Bah, they're naught but a couple babblin' brooks. Just keep her steered right and watch out fer rocks, and we'll be right as rain."

He shook his head, going back to the bow. The craft began to pick up speed as Jonas unfurled the only sail, returning to the wheel. William found himself perfectly content to simply stand at the head of the boat, feeling the rush of cool mountain air go past. The river, a bending, swirling ribbon of emerald green stretched out before them. It was shallow, but not unduly so. After all, the ship was designed for river travel. Its flat bottom and wide berth made it an excellent vessel for such an excursion.

Soon the only sounds were the gentle winds flapping the sails and water splashing up against the sides of the boat. William rested his paws against the railing, happy to just close his eyes and allow the river to gently carry them along its watery path. But Astrid quickly broke what little peace he had managed. "This is a mistake." She said, standing behind him. William sighed, turning his head to speak.

"And why is that?"

Astrid's eyes flashed briefly, like she felt guilty about something. _Something she isn't telling me? _William felt horrible for thinking such a thing, but realized there was always things unseen, things that could kill. What if Astrid was withholding something they needed to know? Which side was she really playing for? As if there even were any sides in this debacle.

She looked out to the mountains, seeming to scan the impenetrable wall of trees. "Bringing the otter along. We don't even know _why _he's coming along, much less what he has to gain from this venture."

William was about to tell her about the vision he had had of this craft, of what it had apparently suffered. But a voice at the back of his head whispered. _She's obviously not telling you everything, why should you? _

He spoke before even pausing to consider this. "He's a former soldier. He knows the land, knows how to navigate it. Besides, all he wants is a little adventure. Jonas said he's been stuck in Elamor for years, and this is his first chance to leave." He could almost taste the bitterness in the lie.

Astrid seemed content enough with the answer, choosing to grumble something and go back to the deck. William sighed, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of danger in the pit of his stomach.

"William!" Jonas' call made William jump a bit and turn around. The otter was still at the helm, motioning with a paw. He strode across the deck and up the stairs leading to the wheel. "What is it?"

The otter nodded towards a series of trunks bolted onto the floor. "Go into that first 'un, 's somethin' I brought along for ye."

William knelt by the crate, popping the hinges and opening the lid. His eyes widened at what was inside. Another set of maille, polished and cleaned to perfection. He lifted the heavy chain cuirass, revealing a set of gloves not unlike Jonas'. The otter grinned at William's stunned expression. "Well, put it on! I didn't bring it fer you to gawk at!"

He went at it eagerly, sliding the maille over his head and onto his shoulders, astonished at the weight. "It's a little...heavy, isn't it?"

Jonas waved a paw. "There's a belt in there somewhere, should help settle some of the weight around yer hips. And you'll get used to it, 'specially after marchin' around in it fer days on end."

William found the belt and fastened it around his waist, grateful for the bit of relief it gave for his strained arms and shoulders. Even then, the vest was heavy. William felt like a turtle as he walked back and forth trying to get accustomed to its heft. He tried on the gloves as well, astonished that they fit him almost perfectly. And his sword's sheath was a perfect match for the thick leather. William tried to strike a heroic pose, but promptly fell flat on his face as the maille swung around and shifted its weight just a tad too much. Astrid, who was watching from below, only offered a patronizing look as Jonas roared laughter.

"Harr harr, I remember that happenin' to me! Don' worry, lad, ye'll figure it out. Just takes time, is all."

Hoisting himself to his feet, William tried to ignore the burning sensation on his cheeks. Trying to save what little dignity he had left, he coughed into his arm and looked down the river. "How far until the rapids?"

Jonas cast an eye about, judging their position from the almost indistinguishable trees and rocks. "Oh, not more'n a day. Maybe by this evenin', if we get lucky."

William tried to swallow the growing lump of fear in his throat. "Lucky? I'm not sure rapids are something we exactly _want _to encounter."

Jonas waved a paw dismissively. "Bah, ain't more'n a few rocks and fallen logs. I only hit 'em once. Spent three days after tryin' to get back and near got killed by a rockslide, mind ye, but I got back! Nothin' to worry about."

William buried his head in his paws. "This otter is going to get us killed."

Fortunately for him, they still hadn't reached the rapids by nightfall. Jonas, acting on years of navigating the waterway, quickly found them a suitable spot to beach and secure the ship. The wet, sandy beach provided a firm enough spot to moor and the forest beyond was perfect for gathering firewood, which soon became William's sole job as the otter started a small blaze.

"Ah, no you don't!" William stopped in the middle of removing his armor, looking at Jonas with a peculiar gaze. "What?"

He gestured with a smoking stick he had been using to stir the coals. "Leave it on, ye'll get used to the weight quicker. Believe me, lad, ye'll thank me in a few days when we're marchin'."

William grumbled a bit, but kept the maille vest on and tightened the belt before trudging into the forest. Astrid stayed behind at the river, watching the waters for any fish they could catch with her bow and arrows.

The sun had already dipped behind the mountains, leaving the sky purple and gold against the clouds. In the trees, there was even less light for William to navigate by. He stumbled through the thick underbrush, using the pines for support. After nearly an hour, he felt he had enough firewood to sustain them for the night. William turned around, and a bolt of fear ran up his spine.

He was completely lost.

All the trees looked exactly the same. There was no path, not even a glimpse of the river through the thick boughs. The forest had closed around him like a cage, sealing off any hint of direction. Everything was a solid mass of green, brown, and dark shadows. Trying to control the terror creeping into his mind, William cupped his paws around his mouth and yelled. "Jonas, Astrid!"

No reply came. The only sounds were the occasional bird call and swishing of branches in the wind. William took a breath and shouted again. "Jonas, Astrid! Where are you?"

Once again, his calls were met with silence. William cursed under his breath and set the bundle of wood down, trying to find a way of escape from this prison of trees. Eventually, he took a rough guess on where the river must be and set off. After all, he could simply follow the shore once he got there. _If _he got there, that is.

As he went, the forest only seemed to get thicker. Thorns and branches tugged at his close, and the maille vest felt as if weighed as much as him. Bird calls and the snapping of twigs sent William's head spinning towards the sound, eyes darting back and forth for any signs of danger. Soon he was almost running through the veritable maze of woodland, gasping for air and desperate for an escape.

William felt as though he had been running for hours when he stumbled into a small clearing, no more than a dozen or so paces wide and long. The rocks and short, tough grass were evidently too harsh for trees to grow there. Breathing a sigh of relief, William sat down against a small boulder and tried to regain his thoughts. The sun was setting, he was completely lost, and there was no food or water for miles as far as he knew. But even those concerns vanished like mist on the wind as a hair-raising cackle of laughter came out of the silent forest surrounding him.

Leaping to his feet, William drew the sword in a flash and spun his head in every direction, searching for whatever it was that made the sound. It came again, only closer. It echoed around the trees, making his efforts to pinpoint the source impossible. All he could do was wait and pray that whatever was out there wasn't interested in a fight.

"Heeheehee, ye're a jumpy likkle feller, aren't ye?" William yelped and spun completely around as his heart shot into his throat. Sitting on a stump not more than five paces away was the thinnest, dirtiest rat he had ever seen. The tunic he wore was no more than rags held together with grass, woven together to make an improvised twine. His fur was matted, filthy, and obviously covered in fleas. William could clearly see the bones in the rat's arms and chest.

William held the sword out in front of him, trying to control his breath. "Who are you?" He tried to sound confident and unafraid, but it came out as more of a hesitant squeak. "What do you want?"

The rat grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth, which were rotted and chipped. "tain't about who I am,'s about who ye are and wot ye're doin' in me woods."

"I'm lost," William said, starting to realize that this rat was in no condition to threaten his safety. "I went to look for firewood and took a wrong turn. Do you know the way back to the river?"

The rat swayed back and forth, a smug look on his shriveled face. "Mayhap I does, mayhap I don't. Wot're ye willin' to trade? Me knowledge ain't free, mousey."

William sighed, starting to get irritated. "I don't have anything, you old hermit. Just this sword," he said, turning the blade to place the weapon in its sheath.

The rat suddenly shrieked, as if he had seen a monster. He dove to the ground, covering his face with two paws. William could only watch in fascinated horror as the emaciated creature trembled and shook. "They come, they come to burn and destroy and kill! They ruin all, they take everything! Slaughter, bloody slaughter! None escape, none survive!"

William took a tentative step forward, but the rat screeched again and scrambled behind a rock, murmuring and babbling what sounded like utter nonsense. "Who?" He asked, forgetting his previous obligations of trying to find the river. "Who kills? The beast that had this sword?"

The rat, who was still shaking uncontrollably, shook his head as tears streaked down his dirt-covered face. "No, no! Sword beast come after, when all is gone! They follow, they try and stop them! Too late, too late! They go, but they not find! The north, snow and ice and death!"

"Who?" William said, taking a knee and grabbing the rat's quivering shoulders. "Was it the knights? Was it the Verkora?"

The rat suddenly went still, looking up at him with clear eyes. "No, not Verkora. Herazka!"

William felt a spear of lightning pierce his skull. He shouted in pain, falling onto his back as his vision flashed. He opened his eyes, staring into the sky. Only it wasn't the sky. There was smoke, drifting through the clouds. Fire danced as screams and cries of agony met his ears. Figures shifted back and forth, some running, some lifting weapons to bear against innocent creatures. They screeched laughter as blood spattered against the sky and over their snarling faces.

One figure stepped forward. His scarlet eyes glistened behind a mask of steel as he lifted a scarlet-tinged sword, howling victory. His movements were as fluid as water, but brutal in the same tone. There wasn't a square inch of his gigantic, massive body that wasn't covered in armor of some sort. With a full-length broadsword clenched in one paw like a child's toy, the figure cut down creature after creature, cackling as blade met flesh. There was hardly any life in those chilling eyes as they seemed to stare at William; only malice, hate, the very embodiment of hell itself.

_I'm coming, _they seemed to say. _I'm coming for you. You will fall like all the others, like your father. You will die, William. _

He shouted and struck out with his paws as fear ran through his blood like fire. Dark, hazy figures were surrounding him and reaching out with their paws, trying to claim him. "William..." Their voices were distant, like a whisper in the misty night. He cried out again, fighting incessantly. "No! No! I can't! No, stop! Please!"

The paws only pressed him down further, trying to drown him in the thick, choking darkness. He gasped and fought, kicking and scratching and biting with everything he had. But it was like moving through water. Everything was murky, shrouded in black. He felt his life slipping away, starting to ebb. It was only a matter of time until...

"William...William..."

_No, not this way! It can't end this way, it can't!_

"William!"

His vision flashed as though somebeast struck him across the face, sending a jolting pain through his head. Things were still dark, but sounds of the world were slowly beginning to clear. "I think he's comin' around..."

"...a damp rag, he's got a fever..."

"William, lad, can ye hear me?"

He took a shuddering breath, using a paw to try and feel out his surroundings, as his eyes were still dark. "J...Jonas? Is that you?"

He felt a strong, calloused paw grasp his. "I'm 'ere, lad. No need t' worry, everythin's alright."

William felt himself start to panic at the still-lingering blindness. "Jonas, I...I can't see! What happened? Why..."

One of the otter's paws put a comforting paw on his head. "Don't fret, William. 's just some bandages. Ye banged yer head up a bit, that's all."

He forced himself to take another breath, feeling the terror start to recede. "What happened? Where are we?"

"We're back at camp," That was Astrid, a doubtless hint of worry in her voice. "Jonas got worried after you didn't come back and decided to go looking. It's a miracle we found you. You were..."

Her voice trailed off as Jonas shushed her quietly. "Ye must 'ave hit yore head a bit," the otter continued, applying a cool compress onto his forehead. "Just a little accident, eh? 'ere, I think those bandages can come off. Astrid, gimme a paw."

William felt the strips of cloth being unraveled, finally allowing his eyes to see his first glimpse of the star-dotted night sky and tops of the pine trees. As he blinked, there was a small twinge of pain near his right temple, evidently where he had sustained whatever injury it was. Warmth from the crackling fire nearby made him smile. "Got the fire started without me, huh?"

Jonas chuckled a bit, holding a canteen to the mouse's lips so he could drink. "Couldn't 'ave ye catchin' cold now, could we? 'sides, we needed somethin' to make soup with."

A few minutes later found the trio gathered around the small blaze, William able to sit up and eat a bowl of the thick, warming stew. After a few moments of silence, he looked up at his companions. "I...I don't know how to say this, but I saw something when I was out."

The otter nodded solemnly. "I can imagine. Ye were thrashin' about and yellin' somethin' fierce by the time we got to ye."

William ran a paw through the fur on his head. "There was somebeast there, a horrible creature. Huge, covered in armor. And the eyes, they weren't like anything I've ever seen. Solid red, like...like blood."

Jonas' eyes widened for the briefest of moments, flashing in the glow of the embers. One of his paws actually trembled, almost dropping the bowl. But he soon regained himself, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat. "Sorry, lad, bit of stew caught in the wrong pipe. Well, ah...'ave ye seen this creature 'afore? Anytime at all?" His questions sounded like Jonas was more than curious. William noticed absentmindedly, despite his casual tone.

"No, never before. It all happened after I came across the rat."

Astrid looked at him quizzically. "Rat? What rat?"

William related his brief story to them both, describing the thin, wild-eyed vermin who he had encountered after being lost. As he finished, both Jonas and Astrid looked at each other strangely.

"What?" He asked, confused.

Astrid spoke up first. "William, there were no other tracks there besides yours. We checked, believe me. We thought maybe somebeast had attacked you, but there was nothing. Just your prints in the dirt."

Silence fell over the camp. William stared, dumb-founded, into the fire. He was positive the rat had been there. William had seen him, smelt him! The rat had been right there, literally in his paws. Nothing was making sense. "But," he said quietly, still looking into the embers. "But he told me where the Verkora went, who they were following."

Jonas' eyes narrowed slightly. "Who?"

"Herazka."

William didn't catch the hissing curse under Jonas' breath, or the brief shiver that shook Astrid. But when he looked up, both looked extremely intrigued. "What?" He asked, trying to piece together their expressions. "Do you know who they are?"

The otter muttered something under his breath, seemingly lost in thought. But he shook himself, blinking sharply. "Ah, not in much detail. Just some wanderin' thieves and robbers, ran into 'em once er twice 'afore. Ye must 'ave heard the name somewhere else, William. Wasn't no rat there to say anythin'." He coughed loudly, obviously trying to sneak around the issue. "Well, best be gettin' to bed. After all, 's a long day tomorrow."

William knew that he was hiding something, but the look in his eyes told William to wait a while before asking questions. Astrid seemed to be the same, her eyes constantly shifting so she didn't have to look him in the face. All he could do was sigh in resignation and lie back down on the bedroll and shut his eyes. It would just have to wait until the next day.


	6. Chapter 6 Violent Truth

And I'm back! Sorry it's been a while, but I hope I make up for lost time in this chapter. Lots of new developments, which I hope come together.

R&R!

* * *

They broke camp early that morning, just as the sun was beginning to lighten the eastern skies behind the mountains. William fastened his swordbelt around the maille vest and checked the new bandages wrapped around his head before climbing back on board the _Helvetten. _William stared at the name painted onto the bow. Then it struck him. He turned to Jonas, who was busy securing the sail rigging. "Jonas, the board that has the writing on it, it isn't the same as the rest of the boat."

Jonas smiled as he finished. "Sharp eye, lad. Yore right, it ain't the same wood as the rest of this 'ere ship. Tis from the original _Helvetten, _'afore she...sank." A shadow passed across his face, but vanished just as quickly.

"What's it mean?"

"'S from the ol' tongue, spoken down south. Literal translation means...ah, it means 'hell'." He paused, noticing the strange look on William's face. "I know, 's strange choice fer a ship. But I ain't the one who built 'er."

Astrid, who had been leaning against the mast while checking her arrow's fletchings, looked up with an eyebrow raised. "Aren't sailors supposed to be superstitious? One would think naming a ship 'hell' counts as going against superstition."

Jonas threw his paws up. "Like I said, lassie, I didn't build 'er, just sail on 'er. At least, what's left of 'er."

"What happened to the first one?" William asked quickly.

The otter tried to make himself look busy, checking the railings for heaven-knew-what. "Storm, big 'un a few dozen seasons back. Nothin' special."

William tried to ask more, but at that moment the wind finally caught the unfurled sails and tugged the vessel into the river. Immediately catching the current, it was soon traveling down the river at a comfortably speedy pace. William stood on deck, enjoying the feeling of wind rushing through his fur and the occasional spray of water. Jonas went back to the helm, taking a firm grip on the wheel. "Rapids'll be comin' along in just a bit, lad. Best hold on to summat unless ye fancy a little swim."

Clutching onto a nearby line, William tried to sound casual as he spoke over the wind. "I thought you said they were just...babbling brooks?"

Jonas winced a little, smiling guiltily. "Ah, bit of an understatement on me part, I'll admit. No need to fret, though. We'll get through jus' fine."

They all jumped a bit as they hit a patch of rougher water. Astrid was clutching onto the mast so tightly her claws were digging into the wood. "I swear, wavedog, if this kills us your afterlife is going to be anything but a peaceful rest when I find you!"

Yanking the wheel hard to port in an attempt to evade a small cluster of sharp rocks, Jonas growled. "Do as ye like, missy, but I ain't having anybeast killed on this 'ere ship today!"

William took his chance to peek over the railing at the path ahead. He immediately wished he hadn't.

The river ahead was almost solid white, torrents of water crashing onto huge, teeth-like chunks of rock. The air around them was slowly being filled with a monstrous roar as the rapids came closer. Chunks of wood, from boats or fallen logs William couldn't tell, were scattered upon the few stretches of flat rock. He gulped, trying to swallow the fear building up in his throat. Another lurch of the vessel nearly sent him sprawling, and he clutched the taut line with all he was worth.

Jonas' hearty, almost insanity-laced hoot broke through the ever growing rush of water. "Harr harr, just like I remember! Come on ye smarmy ol' excuse fer a ship, don't fail me now!"

The _Helvetten _lurched and bucked, almost as if it were _trying _to throw them off. Foam-flecked water sprayed over the bow as they went over some of the rapids, immediately drenching everybeast. William gritted his teeth and shut both eyes, trying not to vomit as the boat took another violent pitch and landed on the water with a massive slapping sound. Jonas threw the wheel frantically to the right, bearing his teeth and growling like he was fighting the river in single combat. Astrid was still clutched to the mast, yelping every time they struck a patch of the rushing water.

Suddenly, they splashed down from a particularly rough section, the sickening crunch of wood louder than the rapids. They all looked up frantically, but Jonas simply ground his jaw together and checked the wheel. "Rudder's still good! We're goin' t' make it!"

Perhaps the otter's words carried some magical property, or fate was simply on their side, because not a moment later all the thrashing and roiling waves of the river faded, leaving them gliding over the choppy, but comparatively pristine river. Soon, the only sounds were the gentle lapping of water against the hull and their labored breathing. Jonas relaxed his white-knuckle grip on the wheel, William slowly let his trembling paws off the line, and Astrid promptly unfastened herself from the mast, ran to the railing, and threw up over the side.

Walking on shaking legs, William finally reached the helm and collapsed onto the deck. "You..." he said, still gasping for air. "Are the single most...insane...reckless...and stupid beast...I have ever known."

Jonas, leaning against the wheel stand, simply closed his eyes and smiled. "Said it'd work, didn't I?"

William couldn't help but laugh.

After a few minutes, they had regained their balance (And color, in Astrid's case) enough to make a choice. All three conversed at the helm, looking out over the river laid out in front of them. "We've got a few choices 'ere," Jonas began, rubbing his chin with a claw. "One, we can follow the river fer another day or so, and wait for it to lead to the coast. It'll get us t' the north all right, but there's the problem of pirates an' such along the way. In talkin' to some of me sailin' mates, they said attacks are heatin' up around those parts. No big vermin hordes to rally 'em up, so they've gone solo. Frankly, just avoidin' the corsairs sounds whole lot more appealin' than tryin' to fight 'em."

"And option two?" William asked.

"We stop somewheres an' head off on paw. There's a few path's that'd take us either straight through Mossflower, or right around it. We might 'ave a better chance goin' through, seein' as there's a number o' woodland outposts somewhere abouts. Never seen 'em m'self, but they're there alright. If'n we went around the coast, there's the same danger of pirates as wi' the other plan."

"How do we really know that the woodlanders there would be willing to help us if we got into trouble?" Astrid had been in a sour mood since earlier, but now her attitude carried a sharp tone even William was unused to. "It's not like we can really trust anybeast we don't know. For all our knowledge, they could have alliances with vermin. I say we go along the river. It's quicker, and we can take anything some mangy pirates have to throw at us." William couldn't help but take notice of the tone in her voice. She seemed reluctant, even downright opposed to any interaction with other creatures.

He narrowed his eyes a bit. "We'd be three against a whole crew of vermin. Besides, what possible reasons would honest woodlanders have for mixing themselves up with vermin? It's just not sensible, and even _I _know that the beasts in Mossflower aren't the cold-hearted, backstabbing scum you talk of in the north."

Astrid crossed her arms, refusing to say more. _What is she so worried about? _William thought, trying to piece together his thoughts. _First she slashes me with a dagger, and then she disappears for an entire night in a town that probably has more sea-vermin and robbers than any ten journeys through Mossflower. That is, unless there's something she doesn't want to confront..._

Jonas broke in. "Aye, William's right. We'd be no match for a full pirate crew. 'sides, Mossflower's known fer their hospitality and treatment of woodlanders. Better'n sailing for an extra ten days around the coast."

Astrid, obviously thwarted, growled lowly before storming down the stairs and into the bottom decks. Jonas gave William a questioning look, which he returned with a shrug. _I don't know any more than you do, _the gesture seemed to say.

Their course was settled. Straight through Mossflower, and onto the north. William stood at the vessel's stern, watching the green-carpeted canyons sail past. He wondered if they would find the Verkora, or what was left of them. His heart sank at the thought. What if they were really gone, what if this whole journey was in vain?

But then the visions came back to him. He felt the apprehension turn to resolute commitment. If those visions meant anything at all, then this quest was worth it. Even if it meant finding out that his father had died and that the Verkora were no longer, it would be worth it. Even if it meant passing hardship and countless trials, it would be worth it.

Jonas approached him, clearing his throat to get the mouse's attention. He jumped, turning to face the otter. "Thinkin'?" He asked, leaning a paw leisurely on the hilt of his sword. William nodded, turning back to the river. "Yes. I'm just wondering what really happened to the Verkora, if they even exist anymore. It seems like so long ago when I saw them marching through the village. My father..." His voice trailed off.

The otter grunted, affirming. "Aye, I know what ye mean, lad. Me own Pater left when I was just a little cub, not more'n a season old. He sailed fer some of the coastal villages, protecting 'em against pirate attacks. Allus made me want t' be like 'im."

"Is that why you joined the militia?" William asked, just going along with the conversation for the most part.

"Aye, when I was 'ardly old enough to lift a sword. Went to the...went to Elamor after that." William barely managed to catch the slip in the otter's words. It was almost as if his lips had been poised to say the letter 'V'. He blinked a few times, but ignored it as the otter waved a paw and gestured to the deck. "Enough of that, anyways. I got a little trainin' in mind."

William followed him down, watching as he walked off ten paces between them both. "What are you doing?" He asked, his tone changing from inquisitive to worried as the otter drew his sword, twirling it like a child's plaything.

Jonas offered him a sly grin. "No trainin' like the real thing, eh? Don't worry; we ain't gonna be killin' eachother today. Just the basics. Come on, let's go!"

Hesitantly, William drew his own sword and settled into what he thought was a decent fighting stance. "What if we hurt each other? I don't want to have to deal with that."

Jonas snorted, smiling. "You, hurt me? Sorry, lad, but that ain't happenin' today. Now, first things first. There's more'n one way to put yer feet in a battle, but we'll be stickin' with the basics fer now. Put yer left paw ahead of the right, lean into it just a tad. There ye go. Now, tuck that sword in nice n' tight near yer chest, ye don't want it out in front of ye where there's no leverage to be had. That's it! Second off..."

William didn't strike a single blow the entire day. Jonas had him contorting his body into all manner of fighting positions, each with a multitude of uses. Hunched, crouched stances for tight quarters, long strides and powerful movements for longer distance, everything was blurring into a single moniker: Pain. Every limb, every muscle was screaming at him to stop, to sit down and collapse. But the otter wouldn't give him a moment's respite. By the time he finally called a break, William's fur was soaked through with sweat. He fell to his knees, sucking in breath after breath of refreshing air.

Jonas patted him on the shoulder as he passed, wiping a solitary bead of sweat off his own brow. "Not bad me boy, not bad 'tall. We'll get back to it tomorrer."

He shook his head. _If I can walk, _he thought to himself. _Or get out of bed, for that matter. _Limping his way over to the mast, William slumped down and tried to think of something other than his burning legs and arms. But whatever peace he had managed was interrupted by a sudden _twang! _and a splash of water. He turned to see Astrid hurriedly reeling in a line, which soon turned out to have a fish-impaling arrow on the end of it. The trout flopped and slapped its tail in distress for a moment, and then went still as she set her dagger to work.

_The same dagger she cut me with. _He could still vividly recall that night. Her scream and the horrified look in her eyes as she realized what had happened. William had never seen her, or anybeast for that matter, react that way.

He forced himself to stand, wincing at the lances of agony, and walked across the deck. She was kneeling over the fish, trying to remove the arrow and avoid damaging the meat at the same time. "Here," he said, crouching next to her and clutching the arrow. "Just hold it still."

She gave him an uncertain look, but did as he asked and gripped the fish as tightly as it would allow. With a short yank, the arrow was pulled clean between the trout's ribs. William cleaned off the arrowhead in the river before handing it back to Astrid. She took the arrow and spoke in a hushed tone. "Why did you bring this otter along?"

William sighed. "Astrid, I already told you. He knows the waterways, shortcuts to get around the mountain. Besides, even if you had agreed to go by water, we wouldn't have had a ship to traverse those rapids with if it weren't for Jonas. He's a good beast, trust me."

She gave him a look that seemed to say "And you can be sure of this _how?" _But she didn't voice it, instead choosing to go back to cleaning the fish. "You said you had a vision. What was it about?"

"I already told you. It was a village, and these vermin came through killing everything in sight."

"All you said was what happened. What was it about, precisely?"

William shook his head. "I don't see what you're getting at, Astrid."

He flinched as she drove the knife into the wood deck. "Why are you having these dreams?" Her voice was tense, almost hostile. "What do they have to do with anything? The Verkora are long gone, William. They followed the Herazka to the north, and..." She stopped, eyes widening as she realized what had escaped her lips.

William narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?" He said, almost whispering. "What are you hiding from us, Astrid? Tell me right now, or I swear on everything sacred you'll never see Jonas or me again."

She stuttered, trying desperately to find an excuse. But as William glared at her, she sighed in resignation and picked up the knife. "There's something I need to tell you, both of you."

"And wot would that be, miss?" Jonas, as usual, seemed to appear from thin air. Even William jumped a little, but not near as much as Astrid. The otter was standing behind them, arms crossed and a look of annoyance on his face.

The squirrel sighed, staring down at the deck. "My father," She began after taking a breath. "Was what somebeasts might have called an assassin. But there was more to it. He wasn't a money-hungry killer, willing to kill any creature for the right price. He only killed when it was absolutely necessary, and when the marked beast was worthy of a blade between their ribs. I was very young at the time, and my mother had died of a sickness. My father would disappear some nights, not coming back until early morning. When I asked him where he had gone, all he told me was that there was some business he had to attend to in town." She looked up, the hint of a smile on her face. "I always believed him."

"But one day he came home and said he would be leaving for a while, and I was going to stay with my aunt. I did, waiting almost three full seasons for his return. He never came back."

She had to pause, taking a shuddering breath. "I only learned what happened a few seasons ago. He had been hired by a client to kill not one, but seven beasts. The client said that they had rampaged through the northlands, killing and destroying an entire kingdom. He took the job, only meeting with this beast once. Halfway through his journey, though, he was attacked by a group of vermin bandits. They beat him half to death before somebeast saved him. The one who drove off the bandits was a knight, one of the Verkora. It turned out that the seven beasts he had been hired to kill was the First Seven of the Verkora, their leaders. He almost tried to complete the job, but after learning of their real intentions in the north, knew he couldn't do it. They were following the Herazka, after those vermin had burned and pillaged their way through the entire south. They were trying to exact justice."

William spoke up. "Then what happened to your father? The Verkora didn't kill him, did they?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, at least they knew what was going on. That client was the leader of the Herazka, I never learned his name. When my father decided not to complete the task, that monster killed him with his own two paws." She didn't even try to wipe away the tears starting to pour down her face. "The truth was never revealed. Everybeast still thinks that my father was a murderer. That's what I was doing in Elamor, trying to find something that could help clear his name."

"Did ye?" Jonas had stayed quiet the entire time, but now his interest was piqued.

Astrid managed a small, but sly grin. "My father wasn't alone. There was a whole network of them, doing the same thing, all the way from the northlands to the eastern shores. One of them tipped me off, an old friend of my father's. But we're still in a bad spot. The assassins still think my father failed his mission, and the average beast thinks he was a cold-blooded killer. We don't have anybeast to turn to."

William slumped down onto the wooden floor, running a paw over his face. "That's it, then." he said, fighting to keep his voice under control. "We're finished. The Verkora are dead, and these Herazka are still out there. We've failed."

Jonas cleared his throat, a sheepish expression on his face. "Eh, mayhap not. As long as we're confessin' our little bits o' untold information..."

"What?" William sat bolt upright. "What is it?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Jonas smiled guiltily. "I, er, I...may or may not've been a...a knight. Sorry I didn't tell ye earlier, but things were gettin' so hectic..." He shut his mouth, noticing the glares his friends were giving him.

"You're joking, right?" William said condescendingly. "You were a _knight? _I thought you said you were just part of the militia!"

"Ah, well, I was. But 'afore that, the Verkora came through and I signed up. Not many beasts got in, but I managed to some'ow. I'll tell ye right now that maille ain't militia standard."

William threw his paws up in the air. "Great, just wonderful! We've got the daughter of an assassin, and a half-drunk otter who _used _to be a knight. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"They aren't gone."

He turned to Astrid. "What?"

"The Verkora aren't completely gone, I know that much for sure. There was an old squirrel I spoke to while we were in town; she said that she had heard rumors of happenings up north. Robbers and thieves and criminals, just disappearing. One day somebeast might be stolen from, and the next the money's right back where it's supposed to be, and the vermin found dead in the snow outside town. It's starting to happen everywhere, but never at the same time. It sounds like whoever is doing this keeps moving on, always changing direction. Like a leaderless army, perhaps?" She said. The other two didn't fail to see the hint.

"Let's just say this is what's left of the Verkora, then," William said, crossing his arms. "What can we hope to do?"

"Bind them back t'gether, is what." Jonas said, his voice turning to a tone of resolution. "Ye may not've known it 'afore, William, but yore father was one o' the First Seven, the 'eart and soul o' the Verkora. Yore the one who can bring 'em back as one."

William's head was swimming. "My father was...but I'm not...why? Why did I end up being a farmer's son then? What happened?"

The otter shook his head. "I don't know anythin' more'n you do, lad. But yore father did it fer a reason."

He suddenly remembered the dream, seemingly so long before, when he was still living with Jeremiah. There was a village, burning to the ground and countless beasts running to escape. A mouse, with a small bundle in her arms and her armor-clad husband nearby. She had given the babe to somebeast else, a young squirrel, who had dashed into the trees before it was too late. His mouth gaped open as the realization hit him. "We have to stop them."

"Stop who?" Now it was Astrid's turn to be confused.

"The Herazka, it was what my father was trying to do. I have to finish this, and clear your family's name," he said, turning to Astrid. All she could do was nod in return.

Jonas allowed himself a small grin. "It's settled, then."

William stood up, a paw resting on the pommel of his sword. "We go north."

Four more days passed. Luckily for William, Astrid, and Jonas, the weather was in their favor. Besides a few foreboding rain showers that they managed to skirt, most of the sky was a peaceful, cotton-gray blanket of clouds. Each morning, they would all roll out of the sleeping mats and make breakfast; usually a fish caught the night before or some hard ship's biscuit. After that, Astrid took control of the wheel as the other two trained.

After every one of those grueling sessions, William would be on the deck gasping for air and trying not to black out from the pain. He had to grit his teeth and ignore the hint of a smile playing around Jonas' lips, like he took amusement from the mouse's pain. But on the fifth day, as William sat eating and trying not to think of the torture ahead, Jonas went down into the hold and returned a few moments later, clutching two wooden swords.

Meal forgotten, William stood up and caught one of the mock weapons by the grip as Jonas tossed it to him. He turned the battered, worn wood over in his paws. Surprisingly, it was almost as heavy as the real thing, with a very similar balance. Jonas got his attention by flicking one of his ears with his own sword point. "Alright, lad. Real trainin' starts today. Combat with a sword ain't as easy as somebeasts make it out t' be. It isn't like a spear, where there's only one end ye have to worry about, or an arrer where it only gets the chance to kill ye once." He said, making sure he spoke loud enough for Astrid to hear. The squirrel just glared at him.

"This blade has a circle o' death around it," he said, motioning with a paw. "One good nick, from any side, and ye could be a goner. Always, _always _keep yore enemy's blade away from ye. Distance is yore best friend, at least on the defense. If'n it can't touch ye, it can't hurt ye. Now, defend yoreself!"

William barely had enough time to leap into a good stance before Jonas' sword came hurtling at his skull from above. He managed to get his own up in time to catch the blow, but the impact sent a sharp pain through his paws and arms. Before he could even shake off the stars in his vision, Jonas had swung around and below, catching William under the ribs. He hit the deck with a breath-taking _oof, _trying to suck in air through his injured lungs.

Jonas paced back and forth, twirling the blade in a paw. "Remember, there's allus more'n one attack. If ye catch an opponent's blade on yore own, knock it away! Send him spinnin', and gut 'em like a fish. Don't sit there and let the attack come. Reverse th' momentum, get the upper paw as quick as ye can. Come on, lad, get up. There ye go, on yore paws."

Steadying himself, William got back into position. This time, Jonas swung his blade towards the ribs. William deflected that blow easily enough, and even caught the next one aimed at his face. But he didn't expect the otter's shoulder butting him in the chest, sending him sprawling. Once again, Jonas stood over him, lecturing like a teacher. "Remember, lad, this is war. Fightin' dirty isn't unfair, it's how ye survive."

Almost swaying on his feet and sucking air between his clenched teeth, William raised his sword. Jonas did the same. "On yer guard!" he shouted, leaping forward.

William knocked aside a thrust and followed up quickly, catching the blade screaming towards his neck. Then he went on the attack, swinging the wooden shaft towards Jonas' legs. The otter intercepted the blow easily enough; along with the next three ferocious strikes William aimed at him. Their swords clacked together, a constant battering force that soon had the younger creature's arms burning like they were alight in flames. He tried to make one last desperate move to end the fight, but he was too fatigued. Jonas simply knocked the sword away, and soon had his own blade resting at the side of William's neck. He smiled, tapping it gently. "That's what I was waitin' fer," he said, stowing the fake weapon in his belt. "Fer you t' get mean. Ye may be defendin' yoreself, but ye're defendin' with as much force as ye can muster."

Rubbing the bruises starting to form on his arms and chest, William sat against the railing and chugged half of a canteen in mere seconds. "What's the real thing like?" He asked to Jonas, who was starting to make his way back towards the wheel. The otter stopped, shoulders sagging a bit.

"Real thing?" He said after a moment, like he hadn't understood William.

"Yes, with actual swords. What's it like?"

Jonas was silent for a few moments, tapping his leg with a paw. "Ye can't really describe it," he said after a while, his voice obviously strained. "It's...it's a terrible thing, William. I don't wish it on anybeast." With that, he took the helm from Astrid and stared intently at the river ahead.

William turned his eyes to the canteen in his paws, deciding not to press the issue. Astrid sat next to him. "Why did you ask him? You've done it yourself, remember?"

"Yes, but that was...different. I didn't even realize what had happened until afterward." He took a swig of the water, mouth oddly dry. "A real battle is different. You have time to prepare, to think of what's coming. Those robbers were just a spur-of-the-moment reaction."

Astrid just nodded. The two settled into an awkward quiet, until Jonas' shout from the wheel got their attention. "Ahoy, ye two! Stir yer stumps, we're makin' port up ahead!"

William looked up to see a break in the monotonous tree line along the shores to their right, where a few buildings were sitting just above the sand line. There were a few smaller boats pulled into the ramshackle dock, mostly just single or two-beast affairs. Most of the structures, at least from what William could tell, were constructed out of driftwood and the occasional batch of logs. Nonetheless, it was obvious that this was a port of trade. There was a large patch of dirt nearby, where countless beasts had set up tents and the like to hawk their wares. Campfires were roaring, and the sounds of conversation began to reach their ears.

Jonas managed to find a place along the haphazardly-constructed pier, having William and Astrid leap over the side to secure the mooring lines. When they were sufficiently tied down, Jonas leapt onto the dock and checked their work. "Those'll do fine," he said, checking to make sure his sword was secured tightly to his belt and the pouch containing a few coins was concealed well. "Make sure anythin' valuable stays 'idden," he said, talking just loud enough for them to hear. "Some beasts here'll do anythin' to make a quick score."

They wandered into the large clump of tents and lean-to's, as Jonas said that buildings were nothing but offices for trade records. The otter seemed to be looking for something, or somebeast as it turned out. His face suddenly lit up as a cheery-looking vole approached. "Well turn me tail, if'n it ain't Lucas! 'Ow are ye, ye fat ol' scallywag?"

The two embraced, laughing as only two old friends could do. "Fat ol' scallywag, eh? Yer lookin' ye swallowed a whole batch of hotroot n' watershrimp stew, pot an' all! I'm doin' fine, mate. Just dandy. How about yerself?"

Jonas wrapped an arm around the vole's charcoal-furred shoulders, leading him towards Astrid and William. "Same as 'afore, wanderin' abouts and tryin' to keep me head on. 'Ere, I want ye to meet some friends o' mine. William, Astrid, meet Lucas Birchpaw, best wheelin' and dealin' tradesbeast alive!"

He shook both their paws, winking slyly. "Oh, I don't knows about that. But between you an' me, I've got a spiffin' deal on strawberry preserves and cinnamon powder goin'! I could get ye an acquaintance's discount, since ye happen to be hangin' around this fat old lump of an otter."

Jonas kept smiling, but it dulled a bit as he clapped Lucas on the shoulder. "Sorry t' say, mate, but we're in a bit of a rush. But ye can help me with summat, if ye 'ave the time."

The vole returned the gesture. "Of course I do fer an ol' friend! Whatever ye need, I kin help."

Smiling, Jonas turned back to William and Astrid. "I'll just be a bit. Do each of ye have, er..." he rubbed two fingers together, not wanting to attract any attention to what little coinage they had.

They both nodded as Jonas turned to walk away. William immediately set off, Astrid following behind. "I don't know about you," he said, grinning as he took in all the sights and smells. "But I'm getting something to eat. Hardtack and trout tastes good for only so long."

The squirrel gave him a look. "What's wrong with the trout I caught?"

William just shook his head.

Half an hour later, he was enjoying a buttermilk scone and bottle of ale while Astrid checked the heads of her arrows. He took a swig from the bottle and set it down on the tree stump he was using as a seat. "Do you always do that?" He asked after a few moments.

She didn't even look up. "Do what?"

"You never relax. You're always checking your bow or arrows or something. Just forget it all for a moment."

Astrid huffed. "If your life depended on it, wouldn't you want to know they were in functioning order?"

He grumbled, his attempt at conversation ruined.

Out of the blue, Astrid spoke up. "To my left, there's a fox standing near one of the booths. Don't stare, but take a look."

William allowed his eyes to wander, as if he were surveying the tents and stands. Soon enough, he spotted the beast.

The fox was tall and lean, with tattered fur and dark, sinister eyes. He wore a black and red tunic, with a sash of the latter color and strange head wrapping of the former. Hanging from the sash was a wide, curved scimitar. The fox rested a paw against it, surveying the crowd of beasts with a piercing gaze. He stood in the shadows between tents, watching the scene like a hawk.

"He's from the north." Astrid's voice almost startled William, he had been so focused.

"How can you tell?" He asked, trying to keep his tone low.

"That sash and head scarf, I've seen them before on beasts from that area. They use them as face and paw wrappings to keep the cold and snow out. And the scimitar is so they can fight in the cold; a thinner blade would be too brittle and snap under impact."

"You seem to know an awful lot about these creatures."

Astrid didn't even blink. "Like I said before, assassins come in every shape and form. Many of my father's close friends came from the north. He...wait, where are you going?"

William had stood up, walking nonchalantly. "Stay here, wait for Jonas. I'm going to see if I can't find out who he is."

Astrid hissed at him. "Would you just stay _put_? Besides, we don't even know if..."

But it was too late. William had already started to mingle with the crowd, slowly drawing nearer to the vermin, who still kept up his gaze.

He sidled into a nearby booth, approaching the rat who was apparently in charge. "Whadya want?" he snarled, "This ain't a lounge. Buy somethin', er get out!"

William narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice level. "I'm looking for information about somebeast."

The rat scratched his mangy neck with a claw. "Are ye? Well, what ye get all matters on 'ow much ye're willin' t' pay."

His eyes widened slightly as William casually dropped three gold coins into his paw. It might have been his entire remaining purse, but it was worth it. "That fox, wearing the black and red. Who is he?"

The rat beckoned him closer, speaking into his ear furtively. "Don't know 'is name, but there's talk about, sayin' he's part of an army. Nobeast's sure, but that's what they been talkin' 'bout."

"An army?" William didn't even try and hide his curiosity. "From where?"

Shrugging, the rat made sure there was nobeast around. "Rumor 'as it they came from the north, far north. That's all I knows."

William nodded and strolled out of the tent, catching a glimpse of the fox's tail as he made his way towards a nearby bank of trees. Trying to keep a decent space between them, William started following the strange creature. Soon enough, the tents and lean-to's turned to banks of monstrous, towering trees. Despite the fox's vibrant clothing, William was having a hard time keeping sight of him. He stumbled through the underbrush, tripping over roots and losing his traction on the web of moss-coated rocks.

As he looked up, the fox had seemed to disappear. William swore under his breath, taking another step forward and promptly slipped on a patch of wet, muddy ground. This blunder most likely saved his life, as the sickle-like blade hurtling towards his neck met nothing but a nearby tree.

William heard the _thock _of blade meeting wood and spun over, lying on his back. The fox was standing over him, scimitar already in hand. His brown eyes narrowed as the paw lifted the weapon, ready to send it into the mouse's skull. William's own paw reached his sword with not a second to spare, just barely catching his opponent's weapon with a clang and crash of steel. He grimaced as a jarring pain shot up his arms, but forced himself to scuttle backwards and get up on his paws, the fox starting to advance.

"You chose the wrong fox to follow, boy." He sneered, dark eyes narrowing. "I'm going to spill your guts and leave them for the birds."

William hefted his sword, never letting his eyes stray from the vermin's blade. "Are you going to talk all day, scum," he said, in a voice far braver than he felt, "or are you going to fight?"

The fox roared, charging forward to meet William's blade. The fox pressed the attack, swinging deftly at every part of the mouse's exposed body. He just barely managed to fend most of the blows off, and a few managed to nick his leg or wrist. The slick forest floor wasn't making things better either. More than once William nearly tripped, catching himself just in time to block another tirade of steel death.

He caught a strike aimed at his neck, and suddenly the vermin's blade slipped off. It was as if William was fighting Jonas again. The opening was there, all he had to do was take it! William brought his sword back and around, scoring a gash under the fox's ribs. The vermin hissed and roared in defiance, swinging his blade like a madbeast. William's mind went blank with terror as his paw was forced open by the blow, and he took a step back. His footpaw met another slick rock, and he fell. The fox stood above him, panting in exhaustion and hatred as he pointed the blade at William's chest. "Die, mouse!"

William could only close his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. _It's over._

The fox grunted, like he had suddenly stepped on a sharp twig. William, realizing after a few seconds that he was still breathing, looked up. The fox was swaying on his feet, one paw holding the scimitar loosely at his side while the other scrabbled and twitched at the back of his neck. There was a pained, confused look on the fox's face, before his eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, and arrow protruding from his spine.

William gasped for breath, still holding the sword limply in one paw. The forest had gone deathly quiet, save for the wind rustling through the tree boughs. His eyes stayed fixed on the dead creature lying not three paces from him as another figure stepped out from between two pine trunks just a stone's throw away. They advanced, and Astrid's scowling face soon caught William's attention. "I told you not to. He could have killed you, you know."

Still trembling, William forced himself to stand, trying to suck air back into his lungs. "Where...did you...come from?" He gasped, just barely managing to sheath his sword without cutting a paw.

Astrid knelt by the fox, assuring herself that it was dead. "I followed you, of course. Do you honestly think Jonas would forgive me if I let you get killed?"

He found himself trying to save whatever bravery he had left. "Me, get killed? Please, I had that fox right where I wanted him. I was just waiting for the right moment."

She sneered. "Right, was that before or after he had cleaved your skull in two? You know just as well as I do that you would be dead right now if it weren't for me."

William just grumbled as she began to inspect the corpse. "As I said earlier," she said after picking through the vermin's effects. "He's from the north. Inner tree bark for tinder, hard flint, the scimitar, and..." she held up a necklace to examine the gold medallion tied to the string in the sunlight. "Hmmm...That's interesting."

"What is it?"

Astrid gave him the trinket, unstringing her bow as he looked at it. "I've never seen it before. It doesn't belong to any of the northern fox tribes, at least to my knowledge."

William squinted as he turned the strange coin over in his paws. At first glance, it seemed like any normal gold pendant. Round in shape, slightly smaller than his paw. But the normalcy stopped there. On the surface, three distinct claw-scratches had been embossed into it, almost like some monstrous beast had run their claws down it, leaving a jagged and rough pattern. On the other side was a peculiar symbol. One triangle, with a lightning bolt etched in its center and three eyes around each edge.

He pondered the coin for a few moments, eventually giving up and turning back to Astrid, who had retrieved her arrow from the corpse and was in the process of cleaning it off. Trying not to grimace at the sight, he pocketed the necklace and stepped past her. "Come on," he said. "We'd better get back to Jonas. He'll be wondering where we went."

Astrid followed, with her head on a swivel for anything that might be stalking them. She moved quickly, but with practiced ease and agility. William, however, was tripping himself up and falling with every other pawstep. By the time they both reached the cluster of tents and booths, he was covered in dirt, moss, leaves, and breathing as if he had just ran the whole way instead of walking.

William had just finished wiping the sweat off his brow when the sound of paws running over the wet grass caught his attention. Jonas appeared in front of them, a concerned look on his face. "Come on," he said, looking about furtively. "We're leavin'. Hurry up, we ain't got much time."

"Jonas, there was a fox back there, he..." William got no further, as Jonas was pushing him towards the boat. "No time fer that, lad. Just keep movin'."

They rushed to the docks, William trying to sputter out the story between breaths. Jonas, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. He kept glancing over his shoulder, scouring the crowd as they passed through. It wasn't until William mentioned the medallion did the otter stop, dead in his tracks.

"What?" He hissed; an astonished expression on his face. "Where is it? Did ye..."

He cut off mid-sentence as an arrow zipped past his head, embedding itself into a nearby tree with a _thunk! _Jonas took off, William and Astrid close behind as two more shafts came screaming in towards their backs. "Just keep goin'!" he shouted, trying to keep his head low. "Get t' the boat!"

Behind them, creatures were shouting and screaming in terror as more arrows seemed to flicker out of thin air, a few even hitting bystanders. The entire field was in chaos, beasts running to and fro trying to get out of range. Jonas hauled himself on deck; narrowly avoiding two more darts embedded themselves in the mast, quivering. The shooters were still hidden. Jonas growled, taking cover as more projectiles soared overhead. "Cut the lines!" He roared, desperately unfurling the sails as the arrows began to zero in. "We're getting' outta here!"

William hacked the mooring line away with his sword, ducking behind what little protection the railing offered. He watched in fascinated horror as Jonas ignored the danger whipping past his head, unfastening the sails and taking to the helm. "Come on, ye blaggards!" He yelled, grinning savagely. "Ye can do better'n that!"

Astrid had her own bow drawn to the ear, searching desperately for the attackers. "I can't see any of them!" She said in a strained voice. "It's like they're invisible!"

Jonas yanked the wheel as a strong gust of wind caught their sales. "Don't worry about that right now. Jus' stay behind cover!"

With agonizing slowness, the _Helvetten _caught the river's current. Finally, the last arrows fell into the water behind them, and then stopped altogether. The cries and shouts slowly faded into the distance, and Jonas sighed, leaning against the helm and running a paw over his face. "That," he finally said. "Was too close fer my likin'."

William drained nearly half of his canteen in one drink. "Aye, it was. Who was shooting at us? Maybe that fox wasn't alone."

Jonas whipped his head around. "What fox?"

"I was trying to tell you about it, before we were interrupted." He said, with a hint of a smile.

The otter narrowed his eyes. "And ye went after this creature? William, what in hellgates were ye thinkin'? Yore lucky Astrid was around, otherwise ye'd be dead!"

William was surprised at Jonas' sudden outburst. "He didn't look that dangerous, and I had the training you..."

He held up a single claw. "One day, William! One day of trainin' ain't enough t' save yer life from an experienced slayer. He could'a gutted ye in the blink of'n eye. Fer the love of all that's sacred, lad, think a little!"

William stared at the deck, crestfallen, as Jonas kept grumbling under his breath. He was right, after all. One day of training wouldn't have offered him more than a few extra seconds of life if Astrid hadn't decided to follow. If it wasn't for her, he'd probably be lying in a pool of blood, staining the green moss scarlet as he drew one last shaking, agonizing breath before...

A sharp bird call brought him back to the present. Jonas was still up at the wheel, gazing intently at the river ahead, even though the current was gentle and the path straight. William sighed and got up, ascending the stairs to stand next to him. "I'm sorry, Jonas. You're right. I just thought I could at least try and help, maybe find out what the fox knew."

Jonas pretended to grumble and issued a half-hearted reprisal. "Gonna get yerself killed one of these days, I swear it..." But his tone quickly changed. "Ye said the fox was carryin' a necklace, right?"

William nodded, allowing Jonas to take the medallion from his outstretched paw. "Yes, this one. I've never seen those symbols before, and neither has Astrid. They seem interesting, though."

It was then he noticed Jonas' face. His eyes were wide open, staring at the coin in his trembling paw as if in a trance. "What?" William asked, growing worried. "What is it?"

The otter let the pendant fall from his grip and clatter onto the deck. "The Herazka, its one o' theirs! I know that symbol anywhere, three claw marks and three eyes. That fox must've been part of the army."

The realization began to dawn on William. "But...if he was this far south, then..."

Jonas nodded. "Then we've got t' get t' the north, if there's any hope of findin' the Verkora."

Astrid, who had evidently heard the entire conversation from below, looked up at the two. "What could the Herazka be doing here? They're northland creatures, they always have been. Besides, there's nothing for them here. They have no power over the woodlanders here."

"Not yet, at least," The otter said, squinting. "But if'n the Herazka is anythin' like when we tangled with 'em 'afore, there ain't a doubt in me mind that they could take anythin' if they want it."

William swallowed nervously. "So the Verkora really is our last hope."

"Aye, that they are."

"And...My father was one of their leaders?"

A nod. "Puts ye next in line, lad. That is, if'n yer willin' to do it. Ain't no shame in actin' sensible."

He grasped the rail tightly. "No, I'm not letting this happen. I'm going to finish what my father started."

They sailed for the rest of the day, plowing through the marble-blue waters until daylight had almost completely faded. Jonas beached the craft on a sandy shore, lined with trees and rocky hills behind it. William noticed this as they jumped onto the shore. The landscape around them had started to change the further north they went. That morning, they had been surrounded on all sides by massive slopes of green, towering into the sky. And while the trees were still thick, they were usually thinner and the mountains shorter, starting to melt into smaller, grass and tree-covered hills.

After a few strikes of flint of the back of her knife against a pile of dry tinder, they had a fire going with dinner waiting close by, hanging from its gills on a nearby branch. William sat cross-legged in the sand, warming his paws over the growing flames. Jonas took a swig from a bottle of grog and grimaced slightly before holding out the flask to William, who pulled a face and shook his head.

Astrid returned from a nearby clump of trees with more firewood. Throwing the dry branches off to the side, she sat down and glanced at the quickly receding sunlight, purple and orange against the sky. "The days are getting shorter," she said lowly, stirring the coals. "Winter's coming, you know. The northlands aren't a good place to be when the snow comes. The cold will kill you a lot faster than anything else there."

Jonas simply grunted, tending to the fish. William voiced his own thoughts. "I don't think there's much of a choice, at least for me. If the Verkora are still there, I don't care how cold it gets. I'll go on alone if I have to, but I'm going."

"Now don't worry yoreself, lad," Jonas said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Ye've got this otter 'til the bitter end. Snow, rocks, vermin, it don't matter none t' me."

Astrid shot him a glance. "I didn't doubt your loyalty, and I hope you feel the same about me. All I'm saying is that we'll have to stop somewhere and begin marching. This river can stretch for only so long."

He nodded solemnly. "Aye. I'd wager we've naught but a few more days 'afore we run outta water. After we get t' the River Moss, it's time to start walkin'."

"Warm clothing and emergency supplies have to be our first priority," she said. "We'll have to find somewhere to stop and resupply."

Jonas' face slowly lit up into a grin. "And I've got the perfect place in mind."

William looked at him curiously. "Where's that?"

The otter checked the fish again, pulling the good-sized trout off of their roasting twigs. "Never been there meself, but a few of me ol' crewmates had been. Smack-dab in the middle o' Mossflower, wonderful little Abbey. All peaceable creatures, most generous an' hospitable lot ye'd ever meet, at least from what I got told."

Taking a bite of the steaming white meat, William leaned back against a pile of sand. "Does this Abbey have a name?"

"Aye," the otter said after swallowing. "Hard t' recall exactly. Red...hall, nah, that ain't it. Red...summat, lemme...ah, that's it! Redwall!"

Astrid nodded. "I've heard of it as well. Nothing in great detail, but they seemed peaceful enough."

"And you think they'd be willing to offer us supplies and shelter, at least for a night or two?"

Jonas grinned. "I know it, lad. When me shipmates came back, all they could gab on about was the wunnerful scoff and gracious hospitality. Said they'd sooner spend one night in Redwall than a whole week's leave in Elamor."

William felt his eyelids begin to droop, a full stomach and warm fire lulling him into sleep. "Sounds...wonderful." he murmured, before shutting his eyes and falling into his dreams.


	7. Chapter 7 Decisions

**A/N: Wow, I'm so, SO sorry for not updating sooner. Feel free to break out the torches and pitchforks, if you so wish. After all, it's all I deserve after leaving you folks in the dark for almost a month. **

**d1996: I was hoping to add a little something to Astrid's character with that chapter. She's just seemed kind of bland so far, I wanted to mix it up a bit. And I just chose the scimitar because...well, I actually don't have a good reason. First thing that popped into my head, I guess?**

**A Fallen Tree: I'm so sorry I haven't really gotten back to you. Thanks for reading this one and following, as well as DoF. And don't worry yourself, I can understand. **

**While I have your attention, a little notice: I'm having an optical surgery to do some "touch-up" work as my doctor so eloquently described it, to fix some scar tissue done by a previous one. What this means is that I'll be out of action for at least a week after the 21st of June, if not a little longer. But at least it'll give me the chance to brew up some new ideas.**

**But, enough of that. On to the story!**

* * *

The fire sputtered as another branch, wet with morning dew, was thrown onto the coals. Steam and smoke rose out of the glowing embers as it slowly caught alight. Jonas made sure it wouldn't go out before sitting down, crossing his legs. Dawn was still an hour or so away, but he had insisted on getting them up and ready to go before first light came. The firelight was their only source of illumination, as the early morning twilight was still black and dotted with stars.

Stifling a yawn, William accepted the fish from the otter, whom had spit it on a branch along with the other trout. The three sat around the miniscule flames trying to stay awake. Astrid broke the fatigued silence first. "This is the last of the fish?"

Jonas nodded. "Aye," he murmured, sighing. "At least until we reach the shallows. The river gets wider up ahead 'afore we reach Mossflow'r. There's still a bit o' ship's biscuit left, but t'aint much."

"Then food has to be our first goal," she said, drumming her fingers pensively. "We won't get far marching on empty stomachs. Are you sure this Redwall place is willing to resupply us?"

Jonas managed a grin, besides his tired features. "Sure as the sunrise. 's all me shipmates could talk about fer weeks on end. And the grub they brought back..." he whistled lowly, smiling at the memory. "Better'n anythin' they've got in Elamor. O' course, most everything's a step up from that slop they give ye in that 'orrible excuse fer a town, but don't you fret. We'll be jus' fine."

William looked up briefly. "So what's the plan after that?"

The otter shrugged. "'s yore quest, lad. Yer in charge."

He turned to Astrid, who nodded. "He's right. This quest is for more than just ourselves, but you were the one who set out first. It's your decision."

He was silent for a few moments, the weight of their situation beginning to set in. This was the first time he had been placed in such a position, where the lives of other creatures were in his paws. His decisions in the next few days could not only determine whether they succeeded in their mission, but whether they lived or died.

"Redwall has to be our first goal," he said after a while. "We need to get food and clothing for the winter. After that, we need to find a suitable destination. We don't have a map with us, so that's something else we'll need to get at the abbey. Jonas, what are the western coasts like during the winter?"

The otter shook his head. "No good, lad. Creatures tend t' head fer the sea when the cold sets in, both vermin and woodlanders. We'd be sure t' find some sort o' trouble."

William sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. If we had been able to go around through the ocean, it wouldn't take near as long. But no use trying if it's just going to get us killed. Astrid, do you know any routes that could get us through the mountains?"

She nodded, but her eyes were dark. "Oh, there are plenty of ways to do it. It's just a matter of not freezing to death, avoiding the vermin tribes settling in for the snow, trying not to get killed in an avalanche, just that sort of thing."

William rubbed his chin, racking his brain for an answer. "Unfortunately," he said quietly. "That seems to be our only way. Unless we want to wait for spring, in which case the Verkora could have moved to...well, anywhere, really. We need to reach them before it's too late."

Jonas forced a grin. "Ye only live once, lad. Might as well make it interestin'."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "That's one way to put it, I guess." He looked back to the fire. "Astrid, answer me honestly. Is it even _possible _to cross the mountains during the winter? If it isn't, tell us now."

She sighed. "The cold is worse than anything you've seen, and the vermin tribes living there...well, they do anything, _anything _at all to survive. And there's always the risk of rockslides or avalanches. Giant waves of stone and ice big enough to wipe out entire towns."

"Astrid, yes or no. Can we do it?"

She spoke quietly. "I don't want to see anybeast die, William."

"Neither do I. Now, answer me, please." William's eyes were like stone as he spoke.

"...Yes."

Her words hung over the group as the fire snapped and hissed. Finally, William nodded slowly. "Then that's our plan. After we get to Redwall and do what's needed, we make for the mountain passes." He paused for a moment. "Listen, if either of you don't want to come with, I won't hold anything against you. After all, this is my journey. There's no need for either of you to endanger yourselves for my benefit."

Jonas punched him on the shoulder jokingly. "Ah, shut yer gab. Ye know we're comin', and that's that. After all, I never did get t' see the mountains in me ol' soldierin' days. Bet they're pretty in the wintertime, eh?"

Astrid couldn't resist a small grin. "Yes, pretty. In a kill-you-slowly-and-painfully kind of way."

William, still rubbing his shoulder, stood up. "We'd better finish breakfast. It's important that we make good time. Jonas, how much longer until we have to set out on foot?"

Jonas cocked his head to one side, thinking. "Not more'n a day, halfa one sounds about right. If'n my ol' thinker isn't gettin' on in years like the rest o' me is; we could be reachin' Redwall by the end of today, if we get a good pace goin'."

He couldn't resist a short jibe as they finished packing their gear. "Oh, Astrid and I will do just fine. I'm not so sure about you, though. Big old fogey of an otter, that's what you are!"

William managed to dodge the rock Jonas tossed at him, but the chunk of burnt fish found its mark behind his left ear.

An hour later, the _Helvetten _was coasting smoothly over the river waters. William had removed the maille vest for the first time in days, so he could clean it. Without realizing it, his body had already grown accustomed to the weight. After taking it off, he almost felt like he would float away.

As he wiped the metal rings down with an oiled rag, he allowed his mind to wander. He wondered what this Mossflower place might be like, and more specifically, what Redwall meant for them. If it was anything like what Jonas had described, then it could make their journey infinitely easier. But what if it didn't offer to help, or even worse, wasn't even there? Even from his limited knowledge, William knew that settlements came and went like the river's ebb. For all they knew, this abbey could be just an empty dwelling long since abandoned, or a heap of rubble in the forest.

He shivered, praying silently that this wasn't the case. If they couldn't get supplies and a map, the whole journey was impossible. He knew Astrid, and she didn't exaggerate often. If the passage was as hard as she made it out to be, they would be in for a dangerous, painful journey. Like she had said, the bitter cold could kill just as easily as a sword or spear.

William jumped as something clattered to the deck nearby. He looked up to see Jonas, a wooden sword in one paw and the other in front of William's paws. "If'n ye want to survive in th' future," he said, "Then ye'll do more'n a day's worth of trainin'."

He watched as William picked up the sword after re-donning his vest, backing away a few paces. William thought he could see the shadow of a grin on the otter's face, but chose to ignore it as they began to circle, both tucking the swords close to their bodies.

Jonas, as usual, made the first move. William caught the swing aimed at his legs and used his momentum to keep going, bringing his own weapon to bear against his adversary's shoulder. Jonas blocked this attack easily, following the mouse's blade and rapping him lightly on the side of the neck. "Kill," he said, now smiling openly.

William felt his blood start to boil as they resumed their previous positions. He knocked away a stabbing thrust and spun, trying to catch the back of Jonas' leg. Once again, it was a futile attempt. He flinched as the wooden sword blade touched his chest. "Kill."

They repeated this exercise for at least two hours, William growing more and more irritated with each faux-death. He was drenched with sweat, arms and shoulders sore from the constant battering. The sound of clattering wooden blades and the scuffing of paws on the ship's deck was ringing in his ears. And the whole time, all he could see was Jonas' grinning, amused face and flashing blade. The otter moved as though it was a game, hardly exerting himself to defy every ferocious attack William rained down upon him.

"Kill," he said for the umpteenth time as William, panting and shaking with fatigue, backed off. He beckoned with a raised paw. "Come on, lad. One more try."

William had had enough. Jonas had just barely gotten into a fighting position when the mouse flew at him, roaring at the top of his lungs. Jonas flinched as their swords met just above his shoulder. He was forced to make a haphazard defense as more blows came screeching in, seemingly from nowhere. William's sword was no more than a blur as he pressed the attack. Jonas actually took a few steps back, gripping the weapon's handle with both paws.

His blade was nearly thrown from his paws as another strike came down, knocking the sword against the deck. The otter grimaced as the shock ran up his arms, straightening himself to look at his opponent before freezing in place, looking at the wooden sword tip touching the base of his throat and William's adrenaline-taut face. The mouse allowed one corner of his mouth to twitch into a grin. "Kill," he puffed, sucking in breath.

He watched as Jonas blinked in surprise, actually poking the blade at his throat as if to assure himself that it was really there. Then he shifted his gaze to William's, a myriad of feelings playing across his features. There was astonishment, for sure, and even a hint of anger, or so William thought.

He blinked as the otter roared laughter, bending down and slapping his knee with a paw. William could only stare in confusion as the otter guffawed, having to sit down in order to regain his breath. When he finally spoke, his eyes were twinkling with tears of mirth. "That...was what I've been waitin'...to see!" He used the sword to stand, clapping William on the shoulder. "Ye finally got it, lad! By the fur, I been hopin' ye'd get it, and ye did! Harr harr harr, I knew ye would!"

William was still confused. "Get what? What are you talking about, you crazed lump of an otter?"

Jonas smiled, gesturing to his sword. "Ye just learned the most impor'nt rule of sword fightin'!" He leaned closer. "Never, _ever _let yer enemy make the first move. Get 'em 'afore they have a chance t' move on ye, make 'em work t' stay alive."

"Why couldn't you just tell me that in the first place?" William said, starting to get irritated.

"Ye'd never learn if'n I jus' told ye, lad," He tapped the side of his nose. "Believe me. I coulda pounded that into yer head for weeks on end, and ye still wouldn't 'ave got it. But if'n ye learn by example..."

"You just liked hitting me with a wooden sword, didn't you?"

Jonas wrapped an arm around the mouse's shoulders. "Added bonus. Now, let's get some grub."


	8. Chapter 8 Arrival

Guess whoooooo!

Yeah, ye can't kill me that easy. I'm back! One eye surgery, vacation out east, week of laying about after surgery, and lots of DVD watching later, here I am! Once again, I have to apologize. I had anticipated just a week or so being out of commission, but turns out that life decided to throw a tub of cosmoline into the works once again.

But I finally got the chance to just sit down and write for once. Things were a bit rusty at first, but after lots of diet pepsi and a few pounds of almonds, here we are! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, and the future ones to come.

P.S: DoF WILL be updated soon. I'm not giving a specific date, but it WILL be updated in the near future. Just having to push through some writer's block with that.

Enjoy!

* * *

The sun was at its apex as the _Helvetten's _bow ground up onto the sand. William leapt over the railing with mooring line in paw, quickly tying the rope to a nearby tree as the other two did likewise. Jonas had guided the ship into a small alcove of thick trees and brush in order to camouflage and protect the vessel from anybeast with the heart to steal it. The forest around them was much different than the towering pines of the mountains. Instead of huge banks of endless green, the shores of Mossflower were dotted with smaller, straighter trees and the occasional clearing. Even the air seemed calmer, gentler than the harsh, biting winds of the hills. Insects buzzed and hummed around them and the dust kicked up from their paws almost twinkled in the afternoon sunlight.

Jonas stared, almost mournfully, as the last supplies were brought off board. "She was a fine ship, I don't mind tellin' ye. Seen a lot on that ol' hunk of wood, I 'ave. It'd be a shame t' lose 'er."

William stood beside him. "Come on, Jonas, we'll get back to her someday. Besides, we've hidden it better than most hide gold."

Astrid nodded as she tied off the last line. "And we've not much time. If we want to get any sort of real progress made, we'll have to leave soon."

The otter sighed, buckling on his sword belt. "Yore right, yore right. Jus'...ye mind if I, er...say good-bye?"

William stopped the inevitable comments from Astrid with a sharp glare, but nodded. "Go ahead, Jonas. We'll be waiting."

They walked away, letting Jonas to his own devices. Astrid leant against a sprawling oak and crossed her arms. "I don't see why he's so sentimental," she whispered, watching as Jonas ran a paw over the hull. "It's just a ship."

William answered without looking at his friend. "How would you feel if somebeast forced you to sacrifice your bow?"

A short pause. "Point taken."

After a few moments, Jonas finally took one last saddened, almost guilty look at his ship before marching back to his friends. "We'd best get a move on," he said, trying to hide the waver in his voice. "Better'n lazin' about."

They set off on a northeasterly bearing, trying to find the path of least resistance through the brush. It was beautiful scenery, no doubt, with lush trees and the occasional trilling birds' song. The autumn leaves were already turning to a myriad of vibrant hues, from stunning reds and bright yellow to the copper-toned browns that laced the boughs.

But as William yanked his footpaw from the fifth tangle of vines and underbrush, he couldn't help but remember his home. The rolling hills of grass and wheat, with distant forests beyond to break the never-ending plane of meadows. He even missed the rain, with its brisk chill and fresh scent left behind after a shower. Running through the dew-laden fields, watching as the heavy clouds retreated away. He felt a pang of homesickness, wondering what Jeremiah and Martha would be doing. Most likely finishing up the harvest and gathering with the other villagers to celebrate that season's crops. He could still remember the town's meager population, gathering in and around the tavern to share stories and enjoy each others' company. Faces lit up in the candlelight, smiling and laughing. Some of the elders would have no doubt gotten a little tipsy and begun singing, letting their warbling tones echo through the room.

He allowed himself a smile as they pressed on, their footpaws trudging steadily on over the leaf-strewn dirt. Someday he would go back; he would fulfill his promise to Jeremiah. No matter how much his destiny was intertwined with that of the Verkora, there would always be a part of him left in the village he had called home.

They marched on, only stopping once to refill their canteens at the banks of a small stream running through the woods. Soon their bodies were covered in dust and sweat, the latter only making it easier for the grime to adhere. William could almost feel the weight starting to build on the chain vest every time he set a footpaw down, sending more dust into the links. It was only when the sun was highest; bearing down on them from between the tree canopies, that Jonas ordered a halt. The trio hurriedly found some shade underneath a cluster five or so trees, which had grown into a haphazard semi-circle. William immediately sat, taking a few deep gulps from his canteen.

Jonas prepared some lunch from whatever stores they had managed to bring along, musing out loud as he did so. "Ye know, lad, there's more t' bein' a knight than jus' swinging a hunk o' steel about. There's still courtship, how t' treat a maiden, addressin' yore superiors, proper ceremony..."

William involuntarily grimaced as the otter went on. There seemed a thousand things to learn. "Is all of that really necessary?" He asked after Jonas had finished. "It seems a little, well...worthless, if you ask me."

Jonas waved his spoon at the mouse, like he was scolding him. "Not if yore tryin' to make a name for yerself. Ye won't get far if ye can't perform the proper ceremonies, such as makin' a good introduction. 'specially when we get to Redwall. I don't want ye makin' yoreself look like a fool, or me fer that matter."

William took a bite from his apple and shrugged. "Well, whatsch tha' mean?"

Jonas leaned forward, like he was going to tell William some sort of secret. When the mouse did likewise, Jonas smacked him behind the head with a heavy paw. "That's what that means, lad. Don' talk with yer mouth full, ain't polite. Now, while I got yore attention, let's go over some rules."

Astrid sat against a weathered oak trunk, enjoying herself immensely as Jonas drilled the proper etiquette and manners into William. How to introduce oneself, arranging his armor and weapons in the correct fashion, speaking to maidens, award and drill ceremony, marching, even how to hold a fork and spoon! William couldn't stop himself from grumbling time to time, which promptly earned him a good smack on the head.

It was almost two full hours before Jonas finally relented. William sat down with a sigh of relief, rubbing an ear. "You didn't have to hit me so hard, you know." he lamented. "It's just a bunch of pomp and display."

Jonas' face tightened somewhat. "Ah, but tell me somethin', William. What good is a beast if he isn't willin' to learn? How is he goin' to make the world a better place if'n he can't even take the time to sit down and listen? Like I said 'afore, there's far more to bein' a knight than swingin' a sword. It's beasts like yore father that made life worth livin'. Without what's in here," he said, tapping his chest with a paw. "We're nothin' more than a bunch of fancy-dressed knife-chuckers. It's what ye make yore life about, what ye do to make things better, that makes a difference."

Nobeast spoke for a moment, until William sighed. "I understand, Joseph." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have complained."

The otter allowed himself a small grin. "Ain't no trouble, lad. Yore still young, and all young 'uns do. Jus' in their nature, I suppose. Now, up on yore paws. We need to get movin' before dark."

They broke camp and set off once more, following the winding, dusty path that lay before them. Occasionally, Jonas would stop them with a raised fist and scan the forest, perturbed by an odd noise or some such. William, at first, was confused as to what the otter was looking for. But gradually, as time wore on, he began to notice the subtleties as well. A rustling bush usually just turned out to be a few bugs or dragonflies. A shadowy figure turned out to be a large clump of moss hanging from a tree branch. But even so, William could feel his perspective beginning to change.

As they continued marching, he suddenly caught the undeniable scent of heavy, rain-laden clouds beginning to descend over them. He looked up through the forest's canopy and noticed the dark, shifting clouds. "Jonas, stop for a second. Do you see that?"

Jonas craned his neck to look for just a brief moment. "Aye, and smell it as well. Rain's comin', and soon. We need to find somewhere to shelter fer the night." He thought for a moment, before nodding to himself. "Alright, here's the plan. We split up and look fer somewhere to hide, just to get outta the rain. Come back and meet 'ere in 'alf an 'our and decide where t' go. Everybeast agree?" Both William and Astrid nodded and set off, William taking the path directly ahead while his two companions went separate ways.

He had scarcely gone a hundred paces when the first raindrops began to patter against the leaves. William flinched as a particularly large droplet fell onto his nose. Ignoring the dampness starting to seep into his clothes, William pressed forward through the rapidly darkening woodlands. As the sun began to fade behind the clouds, the forest seemed to close in around him. Branches snagged and tore at his tunic as he pushed through the dense brush. Everything was wreathed in shadow, turning the forest into a twisting maze of sharp twigs and towering oaks.

William could feel his heart beginning to race as the fear began to creep into the corners of his mind. He forced himself to stop and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. As he did, a sound previously hidden by his stumbling through the leaves became clear. It was the distinctive popping and sizzling of a damp fire, along with muffled voices. William settled into a crouch, trying to hone in on where it might be coming from. After a few minutes, he turned just a tad west and set off, away from the path. It was by no means easy going. The woods were even thicker now. Once again, he breathed slowly and thought about each step carefully before making it. It might have been slower, but it was much better than getting caught by whoever was out there.

The sounds of the fire and voices, along with the smell of smoke, grew more distinct as William kept going. He winced every time a twig snapped underpaw, or his maille vest rattled and clinked together. Just as he was ready to push through a veritable wall of thick, thorn-laden bushes, something caught his attention just to one corner of his eye. Turning, and making sure he was still concealed behind the shrubbery, William was met with the sight of the camp, with a fire at its center and two tents constructed out of cloth and wire hung between two trees. The beast who had chosen this spot knew what they were doing. Even William felt a sense of admiration. The ground was flat and free of any thick underbrush, nearby trees formed a semi-circle to stop any wind or rain, and it was close enough to the river to allow easy access to water. Overall, William thought to himself, not a bad spot. It also seemed like too good of a choice for the average vermin, but he chose not to make assumptions just yet.

William chewed his lip, pondering his options. There were really only two viable choices. One, he could wander into the camp and see if anybeast was about, and maybe ask how they could get to Redwall. But if the creatures who had set up here really _were _vermin, he could be in a fine mess.

He decided on the second course of action: To wait it out, at least for a little while, and see what transpired. If the beasts showed up and appeared to be friendly, he would make his move. If not, getting back to the path wouldn't be terribly difficult. William settled on his haunches, steeling himself for a long wait.

Thankfully for him, it wasn't long before the voices started to converse again, and the rustle of somebeast moving through the forest started to echo across to William from across the camp. Without realizing it, his paw settled on the grip of his sword, ready for whatever might occur.

"Oof, pfwah! Oh, confound it! That's the third time I've fallen in the mud today. Sister Abigale is going to be miffed when she sees the condition of my habit, I'm sure of it."

"Bah, you worry too much. Come on, enjoy it! We don't get let out into Mossflower often, you know. Especially not overnight. Now come on, you worry-wort, let's get back to camp. I've still got some of the chestnuts Friar Drumber gave us."

Two figures walked out of the forest's edge, on the other side of the campsite. Squinting through the rain's haze, William found it difficult to pick out any sort of detail. All he could tell was that both creatures wore foliage-green habits, a traditional sort of robe he had seen the village friar wear. One was definitely a squirrel, distinguishable by his bushy tail. The other could have been anything, for all William could tell. Both appeared to be in their younger seasons, most likely just a bit younger than himself.

The squirrel reached into a bag sitting nearby and retrieved a few nuts, giving one to his friend while sticking the other on a twig and holding it over the fire. "There we go, nice an' comfy. Candied chestnuts just aren't the same unless they're warm, eh, Thoran?"

The other creature, Thoran by the sounds of it, nodded. "Absolutely. Just be careful, though. Don't burn your paw. Otherwise Sister Abigale might physick you." He actually shuddered. "An' I wouldn't wish that on anybeast."

The squirrel twitched his tail, like he was waving off the comment. "Don't fret yourself, I'll be just fine. Besides, I don't think she'd be able to catch us. Two fastest beasts in the whole Abbey, you and me."

_Abbey? _William thought excitedly. _Could it be Redwall?_

The other creature chuckled. "Thoran and Josiah, the naughtiest dibbuns in the whole of Mossflower. Runnin' from bathtimes, runnin' from bed, runnin' from the infirmary, we were always runnin' somewhere."

"Aye, 'struth. Wait'll we...gah, get this smoke outta my face! Here, fan it with your paws."

William noticed, far too late, the billows of smoke flowing towards him. The acrid smell hit him like a brick wall, burning his eyes and immediately setting upon his lungs. It wasn't long before William could take no more. He let out a wheezing cough, trying his best to cover his mouth with a paw. But it was no use. Josiah's head snapped towards the bush. "Did you hear that?" He asked Thoran, who simply nodded in response. In a flash, Josiah had plucked an ashwood staff from the ground and stood near the fire, eyes fixated on the spot.

Realizing he had no choice, William cleared his throat and announced himself clearly. "Friend, friend! I'm coming out." After some trouble, he pushed himself through the leaves and out into the open, not more than a paw's length from the two young creatures. As William filled his lungs, which were still irritated from the smoke, he noticed the other creature. To his astonishment, it was a young pine marten! But both their faces bore the same expressions: Shock, wonder, and perhaps just a bit of fear.

Both parties stood awkwardly for a few moments, before Josiah cleared his throat loudly and puffed out his chest, trying to make himself look as intimidating as possible, which wasn't easy to do for a squirrel just out of childhood. "Who are you, mouse? And why were you sneaking up on us like that?"

William tried to suppress the grin beginning to show itself on his face. Deciding to humor the young one, he knelt and bowed his head, placing a paw over his chest, just as Jonas had instructed him previously. "I am known as William of the Verkora, your liege. And I am just a passing traveler, looking for Redwall Abbey. I had no intentions of harming you or your friend."

Both the squirrel and pine marten were unsure as to what to do. As William stood, Thoran stammered out a response. "We, uh...we're from Redwall, sir. We didn't mean any offense, honest we didn't."

Josiah nodded furiously. "Yeah, I mean no, I mean..."

William grinned, laughing. "It's alright, no need to explain. But would you mind if I asked you two something?"

Both shook their heads, so he continued. "I'm traveling with two friends, an otter and a squirrel. We've been searching for your Abbey for some time now. Is there any chance you could take us to it?"

Josiah seemed to be regaining some of his bravado. "And how do we know you're not an enemy trying to attack our home?"

William did the same as before, placing a paw over his maille vest. "You have my solemn oath, as a knight of the Verkora. I wish no harm on your abbey."

The two immediately turned towards eachother, whispering in hushed tones.

"...a knight! Who'd have thought..."

"...trust him? I'm not sure."

"Come on, what choice do we have? Besides, he seems like a goodbeast."

After some more conversing, Josiah turned back to William. "Alright, we'll show you the way. But I'm warning you, if Skipper Erran catches a whiff of anything suspicious..."

William nodded. "I understand. Just give me a moment to call my friends."

Taking a deep breath, he held two claws to his mouth and whistled sharply, three short notes just loud enough to be heard throughout the forest. He stopped, waiting for a reply. Not a second later, he was answered by two similar calls, not more than a few hundred paces either way. After some waiting, he could hear the distinct sound of Jonas crashing through the bushes, followed by some cursing on his part and sniggering on that of Astrid's.

"...I told ye already, that blasted log got in me way! It ain't like I jus' decided to fall into a muddy trench fer the fun o' it. Now I'm flounderin' about like some sore-bellied toad!"

He burst through the trees, still swearing and cursing up a storm. He only stopped once he saw Josiah and Thoran, who had obviously never heard such nautical terms. The otter's face went slack in surprise for a moment before a wide grin came over his features. "Why, 'ello there! I kin see William already introduced himself. The name's Jonas Hagen, riverdog extraordinaire. That sour-faced treemouse o'er there is Astrid."

The squirrel shot him a look as Jonas shook both Thoran and Josiah's paws. The otter seemed to care little that Thoran was a pine marten. "Nice to meet'ya, both of ye. Meetin' a Redwaller is allus' a wunnerful treat. How's ol' Friar Drumber? Still cookin' up the best food this ol' otter's ever tasted?"

Astrid crossed her arms as Jonas conversed with the two youngsters. "I didn't realize they were allowing vermin to mix with decent woodlanders now." But any further comments were forestalled as William shot her an icy glare.

Josiah and Thoran finally managed to get a word in through Jonas' banter, to show them the path to Redwall. Soon enough, they were trudging through Mossflower woods while the rain storm continued to grow. The two younger creatures put up the hoods on their abbey robes, while the other three marched on doggedly, trying their best to ignore the soaking. The trees overhead offered little cover. In fact, all they did was form apple-sized droplets that would soak any bit of expose fur worse than any normal shower.

William just barely managed to put his paws out in front of him before slipping on yet another splotch of grease-like mud, covering his arms and chest in the stuff. Spluttering, he shook himself and stood. What met his eyes was a sight more welcome than any he thought imaginable.

Redwall stood within an arrow's flight from them, beyond the fringe of woodlands. Even in the dark and rainy early-evening haze, the ruddy gold candlelight from within the abbey's windows and walltops was enough to illuminate the sandstone walls. The bell tower, which stood high above the rest of the abbey, flashed as a bolt of lightning struck far to the east. William was suddenly immune to the biting rain and cold mud splattered over him as they all rushed towards the main gates, laughing and shouting joyfully.

After a brief moment of banging on the towering gates, torchlight appeared overhead as somebeast called down from the top of the battlement. "Oi! Oo's there? Better not be any stinkin' vermin, I'll tell ye! Spit 'em like a frog, I will!"

Josiah cupped a paw over his mouth and shouted over the pounding rain. "Grubble, it's Josiah and Thoran! We're back, and we've got some friends with us! Please open the door, it's freezing out here!"

The torch disappeared after a moment, followed shortly by the sound of pawsteps on wooden stairs. Not too long afterwards, the massive gates swung open with nary a creak, revealing a gray-spined hedgehog with lantern in paw, scrutinizing them carefully. "These be yer 'friends', eh? Who are ye and whaddya want?"

William stood in silence, expecting somebeast else to answer. When none did, he turned to see Jonas and Astrid looking at him expectedly. He sighed and turned back to the suspicious gatekeeper. "Travelers, sir. We're heading to the north, we just need somewhere to recoup and gather some supplies, if you're willing to trade. We have some things of value and enough coin, if that's what you're looking for."

Almost at once, the hedgehog's demeanor turned for the better. "Travelers, eh? Wunnerful! I was allus a bit o' a trekker meself, ye know. Bravin' the hottest deserts, roughest seas, most nasty vermin ye'd ever lay eyes on! Why, I remember once when..."

Josiah cleared his throat loudly. "Sorry to interrupt, Grubble, but is there any chance we can come inside? It's freezing out here!"

The hedgehog nodded briefly, stepping aside to allow them to pass. "Aye, might as well. If'n ye hurry, there's still some evenin' supper left. Best 'urry though, no tellin' who got to it."

Josiah and Thoran guided their new acquaintances across a sprawling lawn, towards one of the largest buildings on the abbey grounds. They nearly sprinted the last few feet, desperate to reach the dry, warm dining hall. When they rushed through the doors, they nearly toppled an elderly squirrel, thin and somewhat frail, but still spry enough to leap out of their way.

"Well well, this is a surprise!" He said, adjusting the crystal glasses perched on his nose and smiling. "Thoran and Josiah, running as usual. And you've brought friends, I see? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Father Henrik, Abbot of Redwall."

William, recalling the advice Jonas had given him, knelt and bowed his head. "It is an honor and a privilege to meet you, Father Henrik. My name is William of the verk...of the south."

Henrik chuckled to himself, placing a paw on William's shoulder and bidding him to stand. "There's no need for such formalities, I assure you. All are equal here at Redwall. But I admire your chivalry." William didn't fail to notice the small wink the aging squirrel gave along with that last word.

Jonas extended a paw. "As William said, Father, 'tis an honor to meet ye. Jonas Hagen, at yore service."

After the proper introductions had been made all around, Henrik's cheery smile fell slightly. "While I understand your need for security and safety outside these walls, my friends, I must ask you to relinquish your weapons while inside Redwall. We are peaceful creatures here, there is no need for violence within our abbey. Not that I think of you as violent beasts, but rules are rules."

Jonas nodded, handing over his own sword and dagger. "I understand, Father. No arguments from us, eh you two?"

Astrid unbuckled her quiver and knife belt, surrendering them quietly, but with an undeniable expression of nervousness.

"I can assure you," Henrik said, accepting the weapons. "These arms will be kept safe and secure in one of our lockers. No harm will come to them."

William finished unbuckling the thick swordbelt around his waist and held them out to the aging squirrel. As he did, something rippled across the abbot's face. Something akin to curiosity perhaps, William thought, or even realization. But Henrik blinked away the spark in his eyes and looked back up, smiling. "Thank you very much. Now, if you'd like something to eat, there's still plenty of leek and potato stew left over from tonight's supper. After that, I'm sure we can find an open room in the dormitories for you. Enjoy yourselves, and welcome to Redwall."


	9. Chapter 9 Thomas Eventyr

I'm sorry. Really, I am. I just...well, stuff got kinda crazy for me the last month. But, I told you I'd be back! One vacation to Reno, another to California, a lot of visits with friends, and probably a week's worth of labor later, here we are!

So, yeah, hopefully you guys haven't boycotted me yet due to horrible updating practices. But if you'll take this chapter as a bit of a gift, I'd appreciate it.

Speaking of this chapter: I won't spoil it, but...wow, this was amazing to write. The idea just kind of sprang up at me one day, but after fleshing it out it was absolutely...well, like I said. No spoilers. Just enjoy, and R&R as always.

Redwall and it's associated characters/places/etc. belong to Brian Jacques and/or the publishing company. William, Jonas, Thomas Eventyr (You'll find out soon enough) belong to me.

* * *

William's spoon clattered against the table as he leaned back in his seat, smiling and letting his eyelids droop. The fireplace nearby crackled as the flames began to burn low, casting a pale light over Great Hall. Empty soup bowls, cups, and plates littered the table in front of him and his two friends.

He laughed quietly as Jonas snored, rattling the bowl his face rested in. Around him were almost half a dozen ale tankards, each having been refilled enough to astonish Redwall's cellar-keeper. William wasn't entirely sure how much the otter had drunk, but if it was enough to knock the old seadog down a peg, it was definitely more than he could ever hope to take in one sitting.

Astrid picked up a soup ladle and thwacked Jonas on the ear, but he hardly flinched. She was about to do it once more when William stopped her. "Don't worry about it," he said, holding up a paw. "I'll take care of him. Go get some sleep, we could all use some."

She nodded her thanks and got up, yawning loudly. William allowed himself to close his eyes as the doors shut. A warm fire, lots of food, a safe place to sleep, it was enough to make anybeast in their position jealous. They had been living moment-to-moment so far, not knowing when or if they might get a meal and making their beds from pine boughs. They finally had a chance to rest, to let their guards down.

A subtle pawstep on the stone floor sent William's eyelids shooting open and paw reaching for something, anything he could use as a weapon. He had just grabbed a poorly sharpened bread knife when his eyes found the source of the noise. It was Thoran, the pine marten. He was standing at the other end of the Great Hall, looking somewhat sheepish.

William sighed, relieved, and set the knife back on the table. He stood as Thoran approached, bowing. "Sorry for disturbing you, sir, but the Abbot sent me to tell you that the dormitories are open for you."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Sir? I'm no 'sir', Thoran. Just call me William. But thank you for letting me know. Would you mind helping me with something?"

The pine marten shook his head. "Not at all, si...William. What is it?"

William jerked his thumb towards Jonas' unconscious form. "This lump of an otter. I don't think he'd be able to get anywhere on his own. Care to lend a paw?"

Thoran agreed, and the two set about lifting Jonas out of his chair. He mumbled something incoherent, and snorted a bit, but stayed asleep. With both arms wrapped over Thoran and William's shoulders, the two began dragging Jonas towards the stairs.

It took some doing on their parts, but after several attempts the two managed to wrangle the otter into the dormitories, and finally into a bed. William made sure he was still breathing before stepping out of the room and closing the door quietly.

Thoran was still there, paws tucked into the sleeves of his habit. There was a moment of awkward silence before he blurted out, like he was afraid waiting to ask his question would lessen his nerve. "Are you really a knight?"

William shrugged. "More or less, at least from what Jonas tells me. My father...well, nobeast knows for sure, but my father was one of the founders of an order called the Verkora. They were like an army, defeating any vermin bands that threatened villages and those unable to help themselves. But...something...happened, and they fell. At least, that's what we think. There have been rumors, stories of strange happenings in the far north. Robbers and pillagers just disappearing, falling off the face of the earth. We...I don't know if it really is the Verkora, but I have to know. If nothing else, I want to find out what happened to my father."

Thoran looked at the floor, stumbling over his words. "I was just...if it wasn't much trouble for you...can I come with?"

Slightly taken aback, William raised his eyebrows. "Come with where?"

"To the north, to the mountains!" The pine marten's eyes were glinting with excitement as he went on. "I could help, I could be a servant, a page! I want to see what it's like, what's beyond Mossflower. My whole life I've been here and I've hardly been beyond the river Moss. I want a chance to leave, get out of..." His voice trailed off, realizing how much he was saying.

William's expression shifted slightly. "Get out of what? The abbey? I don't know why you'd want that. It's a wonderful place. I'm sure I wouldn't want to leave. It's not like...oh, I see." Realization hit him like a slap in the face.

Thoran averted his gaze. "No, I love Redwall, really I do. It's just...not being a woodlander...not everybody can be as friendly as the Abbot or Josiah. But I understand. I don't want to put you in danger just because you're travelling with a vermin-"

William cut him off with a shake of his head. "You're not a vermin, Thoran. You're as much a woodlander as me or anybeast else in this abbey. What you look like doesn't mean a thing, it's what your heart's intentions are that matter."

The young marten tried his best to hide the grin rapidly spreading across his face. "Does that mean I can come with?"

Rubbing his chin pensively, William thought for a moment. "If it were up to me, I couldn't think of a better companion. But unfortunately, it's not just my decision to make. I'll have to speak with the Abbot and my friends as well."

The smile on Thoran's face fell. "She hates me, I could tell."

"Who, Astrid? You let me worry about her. She's just a little...well, it doesn't matter. But for now, go and get some rest. I'll see if I can speak with Abbot Henrik in the morning."

Thoran's face lightened somewhat as he waved good-bye, heading for his own room. "Good night, and thank you!"

William laughed quietly to himself as the sound of the marten's steps faded down the hallway. The young one had spunk, that much was certain. But he had been an abbey-dweller his whole life, at least from what William could gather. He had little experience in the outside world, much less with that of conflict and bloodletting.

He shook his head and sighed. There was so much at stake here, almost _too _much. If their assumptions were correct, and the Herazka were in fact moving southward for whatever reason, the Verkora would be their only hope. And after experiencing the generosity and good-heartedness of the Redwallers, the last thing he wanted was for them to fall victim to the vermin. If the fox he had encountered some days before was any indication of what they were facing, William realized with a sinking heart, then there truly was very little hope.

The soft padding of sandals on the stone floor made one of his ears twitch. Looking towards the staircase at his left, he saw Father Henrik. The elderly squirrel was standing in silence, paws tucked into the wide sleeves of his olive-colored robe. There was a strange look on his face, something almost akin to grief.

"Father Abbot," William said quietly, approaching. "What's the matter?"

Henrik suddenly blinked rapidly and brought a paw up to his forehead, like he was waking from a long sleep. "My, that was...oh, it's just you, William. I'm sorry, that was a terribly strange dream."

William raised one eyebrow. "Father, are you alright? Do you need a healer?"

When the squirrel looked up, his eyes were sharp and clear. "William, do you believe in spirits?"

He was puzzled. "Spirits? I...I suppose. The Friar of my village talked about specters and ghosts, he said that they would come back to haunt bad children. That's all I know of them."

Henrik shook his head kindly. "No, something far more important than simple ghost stories. Spirits that speak to the living, tell them things that will shape our very lives."

Still bewildered, all William could do was shrug. "I can't say I've ever had dealings with the beyond, I'm afraid."

The Abbot smiled gently and beckoned with a paw. "Come, let me show you something."

William followed, somewhat hesitantly, down the steps. Father Henrik spoke as they made their way downstairs. "Countless seasons ago, before Redwall was even an idea, all of Mossflower was ruled by a heartless, insane wildcat. Those living in these woods and surrounding lands were oppressed and driven to the very limits of cruelty. But that all changed when a certain mouse appeared. His name was Martin, Martin the Warrior. He rallied the woodlanders to him and drove out the tyrannical vermin, freeing Mossflower. Shortly thereafter he founded Redwall along with a band of close friends and devoted himself to the pursuit of justice and peace for those living in and around these walls."

They walked through Great Hall, stopping at its end. Many of the candles had gone out, save for a few meager lights around the room's edge. Father Henrik retrieved one of the lit candles and began lighting the others. William finally broke the silence, unable to stand it any longer. "Forgive my bluntness, father, but what exactly does this have to do with me?"

Henrik actually chuckled. "Everything, as a matter of fact. You see, William, Martin's legacy goes far beyond his noble deeds as a living beast. Throughout the ages, whenever Redwall has been threatened by those who would wish evil upon us, Martin's guiding words have fallen on the ears of certain beasts destined to save our order. We have survived countless attacks, against overwhelming odds, by listening to those words. And tonight, I have heard the same thing from Martin himself."

There was a moment of silence, almost like the walls were waiting with baited breath for what would come next. Finally, William spoke up. "And...They were about me? The instructions, that is?"

Henrik looked up from his task to smile. "I would be far-stretched to call them 'instructions', but yes, they were about you. More specifically, about what your quest to find the Verkora means to us."

William felt like a whirlwind had been unleashed inside his skull. His legs went numb and paws trembled as he choked out a few hushed words. "How do you know about that?"

Henrik continued calmly. "Martin was a wise beast, and he still is to this day. He came to me in a dream, and said this.

_There is no beauty, no joy to be found,_

_In battle and on the blood-stained ground._

_Not a smile to appear on a weary face,_

_None of these you will find a trace._

_But fight not for vengeance and spite,_

_Look not to evil on combat's fore night._

_For when the echoes reach up to the heights,_

_Fight for what is good, for what you know to be right._

_To guard the weak and stand by your heart,_

_Love not death or battle's dark art,_

_Father to a son, passes this creed,_

_Swear your allegiance by oath and by deed._

The only sound was the dull sputtering of candle wicks. William could hardly keep himself standing as the room seemed to spin. _Look not to evil...for what is good...stand by your heart...father to son...by oath and by deed..._

"William." He felt himself raise his head, almost feeling he was detached from his body. Father Henrik's face had lost its mature tones, and his eyes were not the ones of the frail Abbot he had been speaking to earlier. This was another beast, one with countless ages of wisdom. The voice was of one much younger, but with more knowledge than most would ever dream of attaining. This was no ordinary beast.

This was Martin the Warrior.

William knelt, dropping his head and speaking in hushed tones. "Are those your words?" He asked, voice trembling.

"No," The voice was so gentle and comforting, and yet strong as a mighty oak. "They are not mine. They are your father's, William. But he has yet one more thing to ask of you."

He felt a chill run down his spine as the being spoke. "Do you take this oath?"

William took in a breath. The air itself was running with an electric current, like a thousand lightning bolts were swirling about the room. "Yes, I do."

The voice was already beginning to fade. "Then arise, William, as a knight of the Verkora, and fulfill your duty."

Forcing himself up on trembling knees, William just narrowly managed to catch Father Henrik as he fell, like a sudden sleep had come over him. At first, he was terrified and searched desperately for any signs of life. But then the squirrel opened his eyes and smiled. "Oh, hello." He said quietly, like he had just awoken from a deep slumber. "My apologies, William. I'm not sure what came over me."

William allowed himself to grin. "That's alright, Father. Nothing wrong with a little nap."

* * *

Rain was still pelting against the abbey windows the next morning, droplets running down the panes like insects drawn to the ground. The skies overhead were dark and overcast and thunder roiled in the distance. But even the horrid weather was lost on the three creatures sitting in Redwall's library, trying not to raise their voices as it was still dawn, at least from what they could tell.

"I don't know, lad. 's gonna be awful treacherous out there. I ain't sure it'd be the place fer one such as him."

"I can teach him to handle himself, and he looks sensible enough to..."

"Looks aren't enough for a decision like this. Anything that happens to him, anything he does, anything he sees, would your responsibility."

"Astrid, please, I understand that much. But this might be his only chance..."

"Fer what? T' get hurt, maybe killed? Ye realize, lad, that eventually we're goin' to have t' go claw-to-claw with these Herazka and their leader, whoever th' scurvy dog is. Now ask yerself, is that somethin' young Thoran can handle?"

William sighed, kneading his forehead with a paw. Jonas, Astrid, and he were seated at one of the large tables nestled in the corner of the library. They had been debating since before dawn, as to whether or not they should allow young Thoran to accompany them on their journey.

Jonas continued. "The poor lad's got maybe, what, a week's worth of time in Mossflower, tops? An' that's just the woods! What about the snow, the mountains, whatever we might get ourselves into. Hellgates, William, I'm not entirely positive we can do it ourselves! Thoran wouldn't have nary a chance out in..."

"He wants to be a page."

The otter raised an eyebrow at William's murmured comment. "Sorry, wot was that?"

He sighed, shutting his eyes. "I said, Thoran wants to be a page. He told me it was the only way he could see that gave him a reason to leave Redwall, to get out and see what was out there. Besides, he doesn't have anywhere else to go. Where can he? The outside realm isn't exactly warm-natured towards..."

"Vermin?" Astrid said, smirking. But the cheeky grin quickly disappeared at the dual glances she received from her two friends.

Jonas turned back to his mouse friend. "Do ye even know anything about pages, lad?"

William shrugged sheepishly. "Not much, I'm afraid. Just that they serve knights, and most of them are peasants. Of course, I don't think that applies to Redwall, but that's all I know."

Jonas was silent, rubbing his chin. Astrid seemed disinterested as usual, rubbing a claw on her freshly washed tunic. "I still think it's a terrible idea," she said casually. "There's no telling what he sort of trouble he could get himself into. Avalanches, the vermin we'll be certain to run into, and no offense," not sounding like she really meant it, "I'm not sure I want the sort of...attention...he could garner for us."

William narrowed his eyes and was preparing for a witty retort when Jonas broke in. "He ever travel outside Mossflower 'afore?"

"No, just around the area here."

The otter grunted. "We'll 'ave to make sure 'e knows about the rest o' the world, I guess. Next time ye see 'im, have the little rascal steady every map of the land between 'ere and the Northern Lands he can lay 'is little paws on."

Astrid sat bolt-upright in her chair, a look of combined astonishment and frustration rising in her eyes. "Wait, wait, wait. We're _actually _considering this? You even said it yourself, that dibbun could get himself killed out there! And now you suddenly want to take him with us on the most dangerous journey that's been attempted in the past hundred seasons?"

Jonas shrugged nonchalantly. "Yep, sounds about right."

She sputtered for a moment before squinting and pointing a claw at him. "You'll regret this, just watch." And without another word, she stormed out of the room.

William couldn't help but notice the mischievous grin twitching at the edges of Jonas' mouth. "You're not telling her something, aren't you?"

He chuckled quietly to herself. "I've got a friend about five days' travel from 'ere who can watch over Thoran 'til we get our job done. Let's face it, William, this little quest of ours is gonna get bloody, sooner or later." The smile had already faded. "And I don't wanna have that young 'un there when things get foul."

William thought about protesting for a moment before realizing that his friend was right. Thoran would do well as a travel companion, and it would benefit him greatly to see more of the world than just Mossflower. But there was no need to stain his innocence with battle and death.

As the morning went on, the friends rejoined in the Great Hall for breakfast. William had already come to love the soft, gentle candlelight and wonderful smells that were always wafting through the air. He would always find himself smiling involuntarily, almost consumed with the happiness and good-natured attitude of the abbey dwellers. The conversation and laughter coursing through the gargantuan chamber was better than any he had experienced since leaving home.

Digging through his third bowl of oatmeal covered in honey and fresh fruit, William became aware of some of the Redwallers, especially the 'dibbuns' as the young ones were referred to in the abbey, glancing at him occasionally. Most of them just seemed interested in the vest of maille and thick swordbelt hanging from his waist. The vast majority were unfamiliar with arms or armor, beyond partaking in the occasional archery tournament or a visiting wayward traveler such as himself.

Jonas had taken notice as well. "Almost makes ye jealous, eh?" He said, slurping down an entire bowl of shrimp and hotroot soup.

William was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"All they see is a shiny ol' set of armor. Hardly any of 'em know what it's really fer." The otter's voice had grown more distant, like he wasn't really aware of what he was saying. "I spoke t' the abbot, he said they ain't seen any real fightin' in a long, long time. Battle ain't somethin' familiar around these parts, thank the seasons. They ain't had t' witness the bloodshed and violence that we're headed fer."

William frowned slightly, noticing his friend's glazed eyes. "Jonas," he said quietly. "What are you saying?"

He took a breath, glancing about furtively to make sure nobeast else was listening in on their conversation. "The Herazka, those vermin that ol' rat told ye about?" His friend nodded in reply, so Jonas continued. "I seen 'em before, a long time ago."

Leaning forward so he could speak more subtly, William tried not to let the tension in his voice show. "What happened?"

Jonas closed his eyes, like he was preparing for some arduous, painful task. "We had been travelin' fer weeks, trackin' down a band of vermin that had sacked a village not too long before. Somebeast led us to a small plain just outside the village, and there they were..."

* * *

_Many seasons ago..._

A frigid, biting wind coursed over the lowlands, driving the snow with it like a torrent of miniature daggers. What little grass that managed to protrude through the crushing fields of snow was sparse and tough, bending and flapping in the harsh gale. The few hills that broke up the monotonous horizon were invisible, as the hellish blizzard had choked every inch of visibility out of the very air itself. Anybeast unfortunate enough to be caught out in the storm would last mere minutes unless they were wearing the thickest of clothing. And even then, that timeline grew only by a few hours.

But through the blinding haze, sitting atop a gently sloping bluff, sat a few beacons of hope. Small, floating lights just barely managed to cut through the flurry. They were obscured and hardly visible in the haze, but were undoubtedly _there. _If these strange visions were pursued by any ill-fated creature blundering through the storm, those small lights would turn into a field of tents and shelters, each with a glowing candle or crackling hearth to warm those inside. And even though the shrieking wind could rival the cry of any banshee, the occasional snippet of conversation or laughter could be heard from one of these shelters, sealed against the tortuous weather outside.

One tent in particular, larger than most of the others, was bustling with activity. The silhouettes of at least half a dozen beasts could be seen inside the refuge. Most were sitting or standing idly, but every once in a while one of them would dart out of the canvas structure, huddled against the cold and rushing into a nearby tent.

Inside, the floor and walls were a mess of drawings, charts, gear, and weapons. In the center of the room was a single table, festooned with more of the same. Thin haze from the candles and small fire burning under a hole in the roof settled above the heads of those assembled around the battered desk.

The paw of a gray and coal-black striped badger sorted through a growing pile of reports at the head of the table. The cleaned and oiled links of his armor clinked together slightly as he moved. "Do we have any reason to doubt what the informant has told us?" He asked in a deep, powerful voice.

A hedgehog snorted, shaking his head. He, like everyone else in the room, wore a signature vest and set of trousers, both made from the chain armor. Along with the protective clothing, a simple cloth tunic was thrown over the vest and secured with the sword belt. On its front, a blue shield had been embroidered with thin twine. Stenciled across it were a crossing sword and oak leaf. The emblems were somewhat faded with time and use, but were still clear on the white canvas. "Aside from him bein' a stinking fox, not a thing."

A short murmur of agreement went around the table before it was silenced with a loud cough from the badger. "Sergeant Ironback, now isn't the time for personal vendettas against one species or another. We need information, and that fox was the best we could find at the time. Now, are there any _serious _concerns?"

"He might not be totally wrong, you know."

All eyes turned towards the speaker. At one end of the table, a mouse leaned his paws on the gnarled oak boards. He wasn't overly tall or largely built, but even just standing placidly he emanated a quiet, learned confidence. The russet-colored fur on his face and paws, the only extremities left exposed by the armor, while matted and somewhat dirty were still youthful, the mouse not even halfway through his seasons. But what always caught everybeast's attention was his sharp, burning blue eyes. The intelligence roiling in their depths was enough to make anybeast notice.

"Lieutenant Eventyr," The badger said, crossing his massive arms. "Do you have something to say regarding the matter at hand?"

The mouse spoke loud enough for the assembly to hear. "You're all aware that I don't share Ironback's...personal opinions on the matter of so-called vermin. I believe that all creatures deserve an equal chance at doing the right thing before being judged."

While this garnered a snort from the hedgehog sitting a few chairs down, the mouse continued without pausing. "But he brings up a solid point. Do we have any inkling of where this fox's allegiances lie? It seems to me that he betrayed the positions of these marauders far too easily. It's too simple."

The badger frowned. "You bring up a solid argument there, Lieutenant. But, unfortunately for us, there's no time to second-guess what's already been done. And in the grand scheme of things, it probably won't make much of a difference. From what our scouts and intelligence officers have told us, this band of vermin can't have more than two or three score beasts, total. We've two full brigades of Knights, three platoons of archers, and at least five score light infantry."

A frown crossed over the mouse's face. "General, I realize what our intelligence has told us, but what if they're wrong? What if there's more of these scum, more than we know about? It could be a disaster if..."

"If," he said. "'if' being the operative word, Eventyr. We haven't been led false by our scouts before. So as of now, I see no reason to doubt their word. Make sure your beasts are ready to move out by tomorrow, all of you. Hopefully the storm will have lifted by then. Dismissed."

The six or so beasts stood, conversing quietly among themselves. The blue-eyed mouse sat down on a nearby barrel, producing a pipe. He didn't light it, just holding it in his mouth. His thoughts were interrupted as a webbed paw cuffed his ear lightly. "What in th' a blue blaze o' hellgates was that about?"

He looked up in time to come face-to-face with a smiling otter. "Ain't seen naught like it in some time, mate, standin' up t' the General like that. What's eggin' ye, Thomas?"

Thomas Eventyr shrugged. "Nothing, just what Ironback was saying."

"Oh, that ol' pile of prickles? Ye just leave 'im t' me, mate, an' I'll 'ave 'im sorted out quicker'n a pile o' apples an' anvils."

He couldn't resist a small grin. "What, with your infamous 'Jonas Hagen Hotroot soup'? I wouldn't wish that on the worst of enemies."

Jonas tried smacking him again, but his paw was quickly intercepted by Thomas'. The situation quickly escalated into a mock boxing match, leaving both winded. As they caught their breath, the grin on his face fell. "But something doesn't feel quite right. I can't put my paw on it, but there's something...wrong...about the whole situation. We've only been tracking these raiders for two days, and almost have them cornered already. It's too easy."

His friend waved a paw dismissively. "I'll take 'too easy' over the alternative any day. B'sides, they're just a bunch o' roamin' criminals."

"As far as we know, you mean."

Jonas sighed. "Listen, mate, all I'm sayin' is not to get yoreself too worked up over it. Yore tour's almost over anyways, right?"

Thomas couldn't resist a longing smile. "Aye, just one more season after this winter. Then it's back to Southsward to be with Liz and the babe. I'm taking over the Verkora Guard stationed there, it should be a...less stressful position."

"Bet yore lookin' forward t' that. Speaking o' Elizabeth, how is she?"

His mouse friend leaned back and breathed a contented sigh. "Good, from what she told me in the last letter. The winter there has been pretty tame, just rain and some occasional flurries. She and the baby stayed inside most of the time, there's plenty of food in the basement for them both."

Jonas shivered as a gust of wind snuck through the thick fabric of the tent. "Ye ever decide on a name fer that liddle scamp o' yores?"

"William," Thomas said, the joy in his voice obvious at the simple act of saying the name. "It was my grandsire's title. By the seasons, I can't wait to see him. You're perfectly free to stop by sometime, Jonas. I think he'd love to meet you."

The otter smiled. "Mayhap I'll t' take ye up on that offer. Been a while since I ventured down south. If the Colonel sees it fit t' grant me a pass, I could probably..."

A distant sound caught their attention, one that somehow managed to cut through the shrieking wind. It was a low, bleating horn, almost like a trumpet. But the tone wasn't smooth like that of an instrument. It was rough, as if made by an animal. Both creatures in the tent immediately stepped outside, ignoring the mind and body-numbing cold.

While the gale hadn't slackened at all, the snow had thinned a fraction. Almost every beast in the camp had come outside, curious and somewhat worried at what the strange call could be. They scoured the plain in front of them, not being able to see more than a hundred paces or so through the fog-like blanket of sleet.

Jonas muttered under his breath, squinting out into the fog. "Ye heard anythin' like it 'afore, mate?"

Thomas shook his head. "No, but it's got me worried. Can't see anything in this blasted...wait, over there. What is that?"

He pointed straight ahead, and Jonas followed with his gaze. In the center of the field, no more than a blurry shade in the distance, was a figure. It appeared to be moving closer as time wore on. As it did, so did the strange sound. Every once in a while the tone would halt for a moment, but pick up not long afterward.

The badger General was not far away, just a few paces to Thomas' left. He called behind his shoulder. "Bring up Corporal Glinteye."

Mere seconds later a thickly-clothed squirrel bounded up towards the front of the crowd. "You asked for me, sir?" He said, already noticing the strange apparition out ahead.

The badger pointed out towards it. "That figure there, can you make out what it is?"

Glinteye narrowed his gaze, silent for a few moments. The squirrel was well-known throughout the entire army for having the sharpest eyes and keenest ears anywhere. He was also a lethal archer. Rumors said he could drop a rat-sized target and three hundred paces with one arrow.

"It's a ferret, sir." He said after a moment, still staring. "Brown cloak, with a black and red sash tied around his waist. He's got a strange-looking sword on it and there's some kind of horn in his paw, it's probably what's making the noise, sir."

The badger nodded. "He's carrying a weapon, you say?"

"Aye, General. The sword, and what looks like a dagger in his boot."

He nodded. "Very well. Bring him down."

Glinteye nodded once, retrieving the bow hung over his back and stringing it in one fluid movement. He drew a long, thinly-tipped arrow meant for piercing armor just in case the vermin was wearing it under the cloak. Drawing to his ear, he leaned back and judged the distance.

"There's no way in hellgates he'll make this shot," Jonas whispered to Thomas under his breath.

The bow released the shaft with a sharp _twang_, disappearing into the muggy skies. Everybeast watched the distant figure with baited breath as it stood in place, unaware of the present danger. One second passed. Then two, then three. Somebeast had just opened their mouth to make a joke about squirrels and snow when the ferret jerked, swaying on his paws before toppling into the snow as a lifeless heap.

Thomas whistled lowly. "No way in hellgates, huh?"

Jonas was about to offer a sharp retort when another eerie call split the silence. This one was even closer than the previous. Everybeast flinched when another sounded. Soon, a third joined the haunting dirge. Paws dropped to sword pommels and quivers as even more began to wail through the air. The badger readjusted his grip on the massive battle axe he carried in one paw, swiveling his head back and forth.

Suddenly, a dim light appeared on the faded horizon. It was a torch. More began to burn through the mist and sway in odd rhythm. The lights continued to extend across the plain like a snake unraveling itself. Thomas felt an icy ball settle in his stomach as the ruddy illumination spread. The only sound was that of the soul-chilling wail.

A vole standing behind Thomas shouted in terror. "They're all around us! We're surrounded, they're-" He suddenly went silent, like somebeast had clasped a paw over his mouth. But as Thomas turned about to calm him, his heart leapt into his throat. An arrow was protruding from the vole's neck, just above the armor vest. He let out a choked gasp before falling back, leaving a growing pool of blood on the snow underneath him.

Thomas dove to the ground just as a hail of shafts began to fall from the sky like some hellish rainstorm. The horrible sound of arrows slamming into armor, cloth, and flesh was quickly overcome by the screaming of wounded and dying beasts. Thomas felt two creatures fall on top of him, each dead before hitting the ground. He lay under the bodies, clenching his eyes shut and trying not to cry out in terror.

The barrage continued for what seemed like an eternity. The snow, now running scarlet, was trampled and roiled from beasts running for their lives under the onslaught of deadly missiles. Somebeasts managed to make it to their tents in an attempt to reach their shields, only to have the fabric riddled with arrows.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the volleys stopped. The only sounds now were the moans and cries of the wounded and the howling wind. Thomas lifted his head a fraction to meet the lifeless gaze of a fallen squirrel, an arrow shot through his steel helmet. Forcing himself to choke back the vomit building in his throat, he scrambled out from underneath his macabre cover and stood up. The camp was littered with corpses, some still moving. Somehow, an oil lamp had been knocked over and a tent was alight with black, rolling smoke rising up from the frame. Survivors were just beginning to get up, some in a shocked daze while others did their best to attend to the wounded as best they could.

"Thomas!" He spun around to see Jonas standing, clutching his arm where an arrow had broken through the maille links. The otter's gaze was almost unreadable in its expression of confused horror. "What...they just..."

Thomas helped his friend sit down, not realizing how much he was shaking. "You need a healer," he said blankly, inspecting the wound. "Just stay here, I'll..."

"Ambush! Ambush! They're coming, we're under attack! To arms, to-"

The panicked voice was suddenly drowned out by an unearthly bellow; one that Thomas knew could only mean one thing. His eyes wavered on the horizon, not wanting to see what they were taking in.

It was like a tidal wave; a tidal wave of beasts, shouting spine-chilling war cries and plowing through the snow like a shark through the ocean. As the few surviving beasts at the edge of the camp stood to meet them, it was as if the horde swallowed them whole. Their eyes, those of ferrets and stoats and foxes and the like, glowered with a insatiable lust for blood as they tore through the feeble ranks left to withstand their horror.

Thomas was frozen to the spot. Two iron paws gripped his legs and a needle of ice was driven straight through his mind and heart. He was trembling all over, but to him it felt as if he were encased in a tomb of translucent stone. All he could do was stare in utter and complete terror at the wave of slaughter and death rushing towards him.

"Knights of the Verkora!" His head snapped towards the voice. It was the badger, bloody and limping from at least half a dozen arrow wounds. He held the mighty axe in just one paw, wielding it like a toy. His eyes shone bright crimson with the bloodwrath, eager for what was to come. "Prepare yourselves for battle!"

The words flowed through Thomas' body like fire. He grasped the hilt of his sword and pulled it smoothly from its sheath. The blade, sharp as the wind biting at his flesh, felt lighter than a dagger in his paw. He gritted his teeth, baring them at the coming enemy.

Amazingly, the vermin had been somewhat slowed. While still carrying through their ranks like a cloud of locusts, the Verkora lines had not been as heavily damaged near the center of their camp. Now a visible, albeit pitifully thin, line of defense was beginning to form. Thomas put himself in the front rank, picking up a discarded shield and sliding his left paw into the grip. The vermin were close now, not more than fifty paces. Their gleaming weapons, stained and dripping with blood, drew ever closer. The cries of bloodlust and rage were matched by their thundering advance, stampeding over the already trampled ground.

The badger lifted his axe, preparing to swing. "Come and meet our blades, you scum, and see why you shall fear the Verkora!"

The two sides met with a sound that could be described as nothing less than an explosion. Jets of snow and blood flew into the air as weapons smashed together, sending sparks into the faces of both ranks. Arrows whistled through the air like angry wasps as swords and shields met with a deafening clatter. Roars of defiance and rage burst through the dissonance.

Thomas hacked at the face of a weasel, sending him reeling back and opening his chest for a stab that sent a shiver up Thomas' arm. He caught a mace on the front of the shield, making him grit his teeth at the force of the impact before countering with a wide swing into the vermin's neck. His sword was a flashing bolt of steel, slicing the air and leaving him flecked with blood. Thomas snarled at a fox trying to impale him with a spear before sending it to hellgates.

Without realizing it, however, their meager line was beginning to get pushed back. They were retreating one step at a time, despite their best efforts. Every time one enemy was cut down, three flooded in to take their place. The Verkora were soon forced back some hundred paces, their backs to the only hill in twenty leagues. By now, their ranks were only three beasts thick and only growing smaller. Blades were breaking from the fearsome combat and archers had long since run out of arrows.

Smashing an opponent in the snout before dispatching him, Thomas looked frantically left and right. There seemed no end to the veritable ocean of vermin. It had all melted into one terrifying canvas of gaping maws and slashing blades. But something caught his eye for a split second. One beast, standing at least a head taller than most. A ornate, blood-speckled helmet decorated his head as he shoved his way forward through his own ranks. All Thomas could see was two eyes, glowing like red-hot coals. He hefted a massive sword, blade stained crimson. A piercing howl escaped his lips, one of triumph and evil.

_Some sort of leader, _Thomas gasped inside his head as he hastily knocked aside a slashing halberd. He was covered in nicks and cuts, some more serious than others. A gash on his forehead kept dripping blood into his eyes, making it difficult to see. He swung the sword, which now felt like a lead weight, connecting with something. There was no way to know what he had hit, only that it collapsed with a gasping shriek and spray of blood.

By now, what few Verkora remained had been pushed back onto the crest of the hill. There were no more than a dozen of them, and that number was growing smaller every passing second. The badger went down under a hail of arrows and one random spear throw, gasping as the last vestiges of life poured from his body. Thomas hardly noticed, unrelenting in his frantic defense. Now there were only seven of them left on the hill. Thomas felt a swirl of rage and sadness pass through him. _So, this is how it ends._

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A hulking figure, charging up the hill as if it wasn't even there. Thomas' heart froze in his chest as the beast drew nearer. There was hardly any fur showing through the massive armor, but what little did poke through was black as a starless night. Those eyes remained locked on him alone, yearning to spill his blood.

Thomas barely had time to shout a warning before the monster was upon them, bringing the massive sword to bear. The remaining seven were reduced to five by this beast alone as another mouse and Ironback himself met their ends at the behemoth weapon. The blade cleaved through flesh and bone almost as easy as it did air. Soon the number was just three. Thomas, with an arrow-ridden shield, watched as the remaining two were cut down. Suddenly, the monster turned to him.

When their blades met, it felt like Thomas' arms would break under the sudden collision. He grunted in pain, gripping the handle of his sword with all the strength left in him.

_Not like this, _he shouted inside his head. _Not without a fight._

The vermin actually laughed as it swung its weapon again, intending to cleave him in two. But Thomas leapt to one side, forcing his arms to respond. The armor-clad beast roared in pain and anger as the keenly-honed steel sliced through the one area of unprotected flesh; just under one shoulder. Blood spattered onto the snow as the creature thrust its blade towards his adversary.

Thomas gasped, limbs beginning to go numb, as a spike of frozen agony drove between his ribs. He felt a river of ice beginning to flow into his body. As his head dropped, he could only stare at the blade protruding from his chest, having cut through the armor like paper. Blood was already beginning to pour over the steel like a river.

He coughed; the action feeling like it would split him in half. The world was beginning to spin as he fell back, hardly even noticing when his body met the frigid snow. As the edges of his vision began to darken, a sinister voice cut through the ringing of battle still left in his head.

"We have taken victory from the paws of our enemies! Their bodies will serve as testament to my power! All hail Herazka, king of the North!"

Thomas was only aware of one thing; his paw grasping the pommel of his sword, coated in his own blood. He opened his lips a fraction, whispering silently into the din before everything faded into a haze of darkness.

_"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. So sorry. So..."_


	10. Chapter 10 A Knight's Farewell

**_Good Lord above, it has been a while! Feel free to scream and yell and hunt me down with predator drones if you deem it necassary, because my lateness can only be blamed on one thing. *points to self* This guy! I'll admit whole-heartedly, though, I hit MASSIVE writer's block a few weeks back and just kind of fell off the wagon, so to speak. That, and my new-found addiction to Top Gear didn't help things. _**

**_Anyways, I apologize for both the lateness in updating this and the short chapter. I just want to get something out before the dreaded writer's block returns, so hopefully this will get me motivated to keep updating. _**

**_Enjoy, and as always, R&R! _**

* * *

_Present day:_

The storm had finally passed by the trio's fifth day at Redwall. Everybeast was so overjoyed to see the heavy clouds and damp air pass that an impromptu breakfast was arranged on the Abbey lawn. It was an undoubtedly slap-dash affair. Dibbuns took to eating wherever they could find what they thought to be a good spot, even if that was in one of the apple trees or atop the battlement stairs. Some of the older abbey-dwellers did their best to control the excited babes and young ones, who had been forced to stay indoors for almost half a week.

As they tucked into the food, only a few noticed the distinct sound of wooden staves clacking together, coming from near the orchard. Those who did only took a quick peek to satisfy their curiosity before going back to breakfast.

Wincing as he caught Jonas' staff with his own, William ignored the painful shock of the brutal mock-combat and turned his weapon up and under the otter's guard, catching him a light tap on the head before ducking another swing.

Jonas backed off a few paces while waving his paws and panting breathlessly. They both heaved in breath after the furious sparring session. William leaned his ash-wood stave against a shoulder and trying to rub the feeling back into his battered paws. He and his mentor had been engaged in such a manner for hours, since the dawn had finally broken against a cloudy sky. Jonas had taken it upon himself to teach him every practical skill that might be required of William. The work was sometimes odiously dull, but underneath the mask of fatigue and disinterest, the young mouse's determination was clear. Ever since Jonas had told him of Thomas' fate, William had been frantically trying to glean every bit of knowledge he could take advantage of.

"Whew, I think that'll be enough of that fer one day," Jonas said, still breathing hard. "Don't want t' kill yoreself in training before we even reach th' enemy."

They both made towards the buffet tables, where breakfast had been set. As both otter and mouse began to fill their plates, Abbot Henrik appeared nearby. "Good morning," He said, addressing them cheerfully. "I take it your training session went smoothly, William?"

He smiled politely. "As smoothly as smashing eachother with sticks can be, Father. But yes, it did."

The squirrel chuckled, beckoning to them with a paw. "Come, I have something to discuss with you."

William's brain was already clicking away, trying to figure out what the Abbot's intentions were as he and Jonas followed, until they reached the shade of a large oak tree near one corner of the walls.

Henrik sat, Jonas and William following his lead. The elderly creature didn't speak for a few moments, choosing to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths of the sharp, clean air. "I understand that Thoran still wishes to travel with you."

William's heart sank as he began to stutter out a response, trying anything to save their plan from utter failure. "Father Abbot, we weren't...he'll be fine with Jonas and..."

He stopped as the squirrel held up a paw for silence. "What I was going to say, young one," he said, a glint of mischievousness in his old eyes, "Was that I think it would be an excellent idea for Thoran to experience the outside world. Even as the head of the abbey, I don't believe it's very healthy for beasts to be bound inside these walls forever. I was much the same, at one time in my youth. The thirst for adventure is a hard one to resist. And with Jonas' acquaintance not far from here, I am sure his safety is well in paw."

Both creatures sitting opposite him were shocked, mouths agape. Jonas managed to recover first. "What in...Forgive me for sayin' so, Father, but how in the blue blazes did ye find that out?"

Henrik smiled knowingly. "I have been a member of his abbey for many, many seasons. Eventually, you learn how to pick up certain tidbits here and there."

The otter regained his composure to some extent. "So what yore sayin' is that Thoran can come with us?"

"Both of you, along with Thoran, have my blessing on this journey, so long as you swear to keep him safe." He said, resting both paws on each of their shoulders. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes," William responded confidently. "Yes, you do Father. Thoran's wellbeing is our number one concern for as long as he is in our care."

"I don't doubt it for a moment. Now," He said, wincing slightly as he stood, "Why don't we go enjoy breakfast with the others? It's a beautiful day, and the good Friar has prepared a meal good enough for any two hungry warriors."

"Right paw front, bring the staff up under my arm. There, you see how that works?"

Thoran nodded, repeating the motion again. He blocked a slow swing from William, stepping under and tapping his ribs with one end of the stave. They had been practicing simple martial combat for almost two hours, but as Jonas put it, "Any sort o' defense is better'n sitting down and gettin' slaughtered."

The pine marten had been elated after hearing the news that he would be accompanying the group on their journey. Of course, they hadn't told him about their plans to leave him behind somewhere safe after a few days, but there was no reason to. It would only spur him on to try and follow, and that was something none of them wanted.

William nodded in satisfaction as Thoran repeated the maneuver again before signaling to stop. "It's almost time for dinner, and we can't let Jonas get there before us. There wouldn't be much left if we did, I imagine."

It felt strange to him, teaching another beast not much younger than himself how to fight. Obviously it was nothing too dangerous or advanced, but the concept itself seemed foreign to William. He looked at the smaller creature walking alongside him, clothed in a simple brown habit and sandals, compared to his armor and swordbelt. The distinction was shocking.

"Do you mind me asking you something, Thoran?" He asked suddenly.

The pine gestured with a paw. "No, not at all."

"How did you come to Redwall?"

He could hear the marten inhale sharply. "I...uh..."

William shifted awkwardly. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand..."

Thoran shook his head. "No, it's alright. I...It was twelve summers ago, just before autumn. From what Abbot Henrik told me, there had been rumors of a vermin band moving through Mossflower during that time. Eventually, they stumbled onto Redwall. There weren't more than a score of them in all, mostly just land-bound searats or weasels. But the leader of that band was a savage creature, almost insane in his desire to conquer the abbey. He..." The young Redwaller had to pause for a moment. "He was my father. I never learned his name, but after a failed siege he left my sick mother and I here, since she couldn't travel. She died a few days after they took her in."

He looked down at his paws. "You can probably see why the other abbey-dwellers don't like me. Son of a crazed vermin bent on destroying Redwall." He smiled mirthlessly. "I guess I don't blame them."

They stopped near the entrance to the Great Hall, William settling a paw on his shoulder. "Thoran, you're not responsible for what your father did. It's not your burden to bear. You're just as much a goodbeast as any other creature here, maybe even more so to have overcome what you have. Any who say otherwise are liars, in my book at least."

The marten smiled; a genuine grin this time. "Thanks, William. That means a lot. Now, let's get something to eat before Jonas scoffs the whole meal, plate and all!"

The meal was far more than a simple dinner. Even on such short notice, the kitchen staff had created a vast array of dishes and treats after learning of Thoran's soon-to-be-departure. All manner of pasties, soups, breads, trifles, and anything else the cooks could think of were amassed in a seemingly endless array on the massive tables.

By the time William had loaded his plate and sat next to Jonas, the otter had dug through two entire deeper'n'ever pies, three leek and potato pasties, and an almost innumerable amount of cordial and October ale. "Evenin', lad," He said between mouthfuls. "What's the word?"

William spoke as he ate. "Well, Thoran can definitely swing a quarterstaff better than me. I'm no good with the clunky things."

Thoran shrugged. "Oh, they aren't that bad. Of course, when it's the only thing resembling a weapon you can find, there's not much of a choice."

Jonas grunted. "We'll have Astrid teach ye how to fling arrows one o' these days. Useful little skill, that."

"Yes, it is. Especially when your enemy doesn't deserve the courtesy of a face-to-face confrontation."

Everybeast jumped a little at the squirrel's sudden appearance. She was standing idly behind them, with a cup of elderberry wine in one paw and the undeniable hint of a scowl on her features. She sat down next to Jonas, taking a short drink from the cup. "It's settled, then?"

William realized she was talking about Thoran. The pine marten shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Jonas nodded shortly. "Aye, he is."

Astrid quaffed the rest of her drink in one gulp. "Well, then that's the end of that. When do we leave? I want to get underway before the rains set in."

All eyes turned to Jonas, who had promised the group a firm answer by the end of the first week. He rubbed his chin with a paw, humming quietly to himself for a moment. "If all goes well," He finally began, "I'd like to be seein' the outside of the walls in two days, three at the most. Astrid's right, I don't want t' be caught on the mountain passes when the storms get there. Thoran, ye get those maps I asked fer?"

The marten nodded. "Jeremiah got them for me; he's an apprentice to the Abbey recorder."

"Good, two days it is then. We'll leave early in the morn; I want to get an early start." He glanced up at William. "Make sure yore weapons an' armor are in proper order, lad. I see a speck o' rust, an' I'll have ye scrubbin' till yore paws ain't nothing more'n stubs, unnerstand?" His tone made it an obvious jest, but William nodded all the same.

Jonas drew himself up and sighed. "Get some rest, everybeast. 'Tis a long journey we got ahead of ourselves."

Two days passed far too slowly for Williams' liking. He scrubbed the chainmail with sand and vinegar until it shone like sunlight, sharpened his sword's blade until it was hard and sharp enough to cleave a beast in two, and checked his equipment over and over again. One of the cellarhogs, who also happened to be an accomplished blacksmith, made him a new knife from a trio of hammered and cut barrel rings. They had received travel rations and supplies from the generous Redwallers, and William had been given at least six scarves or strips of cloths from giggling maids to carry into battle as his colors.

There was a farewell feast the night before the group's departure. Abbot Henrik said grace, asking for protection and fair travels. The meal was astonishing in its size and quality, and by its end William could hardly keep his eyes open. He finally managed to stumble upstairs and into the dormitories where he was sleeping.

Sitting in his bed was a small cloth bundle, with a piece of parchment tied on with string. He undid the twine and read the note.

_A knight does not go into battle without his coat of arms, William. When you reach the Verkora, they will know who you are and what you will do. Wear it with pride, and do not forsake your oath._

The surcoat had been made from simple linen, light in color and the perfect size to fit over the armor covering his chest. And though it was surprisingly thin, it seemed strong enough to last through the worst. But it was the badge embroidered on its front and back that made William inhale sharply and sway on his feet.

Stitched into the cloth was a brilliant blue shield, edges colored with gold thread. In the chevron's center was a green oak leaf, over which was lain a sword not unlike his own, each symbol crafted with obvious skill and quality. There was not a sign of rushed worked or shoddy material to be seen anywhere on the piece.

William laid down the surcoat and carefully placed it into his rucksack, still enthralled by the simple coat of arms stitched onto the fabric. It was such a mundane thing, almost boring, but yet it held his gaze like a flawless jewel. A small chill went up his spine as he let a paw stray over the fine threads. Somewhere, deep down, he knew this insignia meant more than he would ever understand. But for now, it was just another whisper of a memory in the back of his mind.

Eventually he was able to tear himself away and seal the pack, intending to wear the surcoat the next morning when they set off. As he laid his head down on the pillow, a small grin crossed William's face.

_The real journey starts now._


End file.
